Who Was Lost and Is Found: A Novel

by Mrs. Oliphant

“Eh, mem, I’m aware it’s no for me to speak—but so soon, afore he has got accustomed to being at hame—and with siller in his pouch.”

“What do you know about his siller in his pouch?” cried the angry mistress.

“I saw the notes in his hand. He’s aye very nice to me,” said Janet, not without a little pleasure in showing how much more at his ease Robert was with her than with his mother, “and cracks about everything. He just showed me in his hand—as many notes as would build a kirk. He said: ‘See how liberal——’” Janet stopped here, a little confused; for what Robert had said was, “See how liberal the old woman is.” She liked to give her mistress the tiniest pin-prick, perhaps, but not the stab of a disrespect like that.

“I wish to be liberal,” said Mrs Ogilvy. “I am very glad he was pleased: and I knew he was going,—there was nothing out of the way about it that you should meet me with such a long face. I thought nothing less than that he must be ill after all his fatigues and his travels.”

“Oh, no a bit of him,” said Janet—“no ill: I never had ony fears about that.”

Mrs Ogilvy by this time had quite recovered herself. “He will have a good many things to do,” she said. “He will never be able to get back to his dinner. I hope he’ll get something comfortable to eat in Edinburgh. You can keep back the roast of beef till the evening, Janet, and just give me some little thing: an egg will do and a cup of tea——”

“You will just get your dinner as usual,” said Janet, doggedly, “as you did before, when you were in your natural way.”

When she was in her natural way! It was a cruel speech, but Mrs Ogilvy took no notice. She did not fight the question out, as Janet hoped. If she shed a few tears as she took off her things in her bedroom, they were soon wiped away and left no traces. Robbie could not be tied to her apron-strings. She knew that well, if Janet did not know it. And what could be more natural than that he should like to buy his clothes and get what he wanted by himself, not with an old wife for ever at his heels? She strengthened herself for a quiet day, and then the pleasure of seeing him come back.

But it was wonderful how difficult it was to settle for a quiet day. She had never felt so lonely, she thought, or the house so empty. It had been empty for fifteen years, but it was long since she had felt it like this, every room missing the foot and the voice and the big presence, though it was but two days since he came back. But she settled herself with an effort, counting the trains, and making out that before five o’clock it would be vain to look for him. He would have to go to the tailor’s, and to buy linen, and perhaps shoes, and a hat—maybe other things which do not in a moment come to a woman’s mind. No; it could not be till five o’clock, or perhaps even six. He would have a great many things to do. She would not even wonder, she said to herself, if it were later. He would, no doubt, just walk about a little and look at things that were new since he went away. There were some more of these statues in the Princes Street Gardens. Mrs Ogilvy did not care for them herself, but Robbie would. A young man, noticing everything, he would like to see all that was new.

A step on the gravel roused her early in the afternoon—the swing of the gate, and the sound of the gradually nearing footstep. Ah, that was him! earlier than she had hoped for, knowing she would be anxious, making his mother’s heart to sing for joy. She watched discreetly behind the curtain, that he might not think she was looking out for him, or had any doubts about his early return. Poor Mrs Ogilvy! she was well used to that kind of disappointment, but it seemed like a blow full in her face now, a stroke she had not the least expected, when she saw that it was not Robbie that was coming, but the minister—the minister of all people—who had the right of old friendships to ask questions, and to have things explained to him, and who was doubtless coming now to ask if she had been ill yesterday,—for when had it happened before that she had not been in her usual place in the kirk? She sat down faint and sick, but after a moment came round again, saying to herself that it would have been impossible for Robbie to get back so soon, and that she richly deserved a disappointment that she had brought on herself. When Mr Logan came in she was seated in her usual chair (she had moved it from its old place since Robert seemed to like that, placing for him a bigger chair out of the dining-room, which suited him better), and having her usual looks, so that he began by saying that he need not ask if she had been unwell, for she was just as blooming as ever. Having said this, the minister fell into a sort of brown study, with a smile on his face, and a look which was a little sheepish, as if he did not know what more to say. He asked no questions, and he did not seem even to have heard anything, for there was no curiosity in his face. Mrs Ogilvy made a few short remarks on the weather, and told him she had been in Edinburgh that morning, which elicited from him nothing more than a “Dear me!” of the vaguest interest. Not a word about Robbie, not a question did he ask. She had been alarmed at the idea of these questions. She was still more alarmed and wondering when they did not come.