Heriot's Choice: A Tale

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

'You must not be angry with Roy,' continued the young girl, when her agitation had a little subsided. 'He could not help my seeing what he felt; and then he told me to go back to you. He has tried his hardest, I know he has; every night I prayed that you might come and take me away, and every morning I dreaded lest I should be disappointed. Heriot, it was cruel—cruel to leave me so long.'

'And you will come back with me now?'

'Oh yes,' with a little sighing breath.

'And I am to make you my wife? I am not to wait for your nineteenth birthday?'

'No. Oh, Heriot, how self-willed and selfish I was.'

'Neither one nor the other. Listen to me, dear Polly. Nay, you are trembling so that you can hardly stand; sit beside me on this couch; it is my turn to talk now. I have a little story to tell you.'

'A story, Heriot?'

'Yes; shall we call it "The Guardian's Mistake"? I am not much of a hand in story-telling, but I hope I shall make my meaning clear. What, afraid, my child? nay, there is no sad ending to this story of mine; it runs merrily to the tune of wedding bells.'

'I do not want to hear it,' she said, shrinking nervously; but he, half-laughingly and half-seriously, persisted:—

'Once upon a time, shall we say that, Polly? Little Heartsease, how pale you are growing. Once upon a time, a great many years ago, a man committed a great mistake that darkened his after life.