But the “foolish boy” resolutely refusing to be either contented or thankful, unless she would agree to his plan, at length, when it was far on in the summer, “between the crops” as he put it, Alick persuaded Heather to make her preparations for leaving home, which she did all the more readily, perhaps, because Arthur agreed to come down on the Saturday nights, and remain with them until the Monday mornings.
“I think the change will do us all good,” he said; but there was a look in his face which Heather somehow mistrusted, and which caused her to wonder what could be the matter with Arthur; whether he had any fresh trouble he was keeping from her, or whether he felt ill and would not say so, for fear of spoiling her holiday.
Talking the matter over with Bessie, however, that young person combated her friend’s fears successfully. “If Arthur should be ill,” she said, “I shall certainly hear of it from Morrison” (Morrison was one of the workmen somewhat devoted to Priscilla, in whom both Heather and Bessie trusted, and it is only fair to add, he deserved such trust, for the notes they mutually exchanged were never chattered about; the name of the young lady, whom Mrs. Dudley went to see, was never mentioned to any one); “and if I do hear of there being anything the matter,” went on Bessie, “I shall certainly go round to nurse him, and telegraph for you; so make yourself happy concerning that dear husband, and pack up your clothes at once.”
Which advice Heather followed in a divided frame of mind; divided, because while she longed to see the country, she hated leaving Arthur, who, on the very Saturday of her departure, said he should not be able to accompany her out of town that week, because Mr. Lukin was coming to London, and might be expected in Silk Street at any moment.
“But you must go, dear,” he added, “and I will run down through the week, if I possibly can. Come now, get your bonnet on, or we shall be too late at Waterloo;” and thus he hurried her on till they were fairly in a cab, en route to the South Western Railway Terminus.
There were Alick and Cuthbert, Lucy and Laura, all looking as bright and sunshiny as the weather.
“Not coming, Arthur!” exclaimed his brother; “what a shabby trick! I could not have believed you would have served a fellow so!”
“It is not my fault, Alick,” was the reply; “but Mr. Lukin is coming to town, and I must be on the spot to receive him; you will take care of Heather, Alick,” he added, in a lower and a different tone, drawing his brother aside; “you will promise me to take care of her?”
“Take care of Heather!” answered Alick, “I like that; as though I should not take care of her. Do you think I forget, Arthur—do you imagine I could possibly forget, the years during which she was our mother—the best mother ever any boys and girls found?”
“Thank you, I shall be easier now,” Arthur answered; and then he joined the others and kept near his wife till it was time for the little party to enter the compartment, which they quite filled. To the last, Squire Dudley never took his eyes off his wife’s face; and, when the moment of final parting came, he kissed her two or three times over, saying “God bless you, Heather! think of me sometimes.”