It is one of the peculiar properties and triumphs of love, that, not content with securing its own position in the human heart, it delights in unsettling and metamorphosing the tenants by which it was previously occupied. Under its wayward sway boldness becomes timidity, and fierceness is transformed into gentleness, while bashfulness is rendered bold, and simplicity has recourse to the devices of cunning.
Thus Jessie Muir, who was naturally of a frank open disposition, but who had a secret presentiment that her father would reject the suit of her lover if it were now to be declared, acquiesced demurely in his observation respecting the attention shown by Harry Gregson to the business of the store.
“Weel, a–weel,” continued the merchant, “he’s a gude lad, and no ill–faured neither; I’m thinkin’, Jessie, that he and Jean will maybe fancy each other; they’re aye thegither i’ the store, an’ the bit lassie might gae further and fare waur than by takin’ up wi’ Hairy.”
This speech was too much for Jessie’s equanimity; the coolness with which her father spoke of his servant–maid “takin’ up” with her lover, stung her to the quick, and she replied tartly, “Father, I wish you would mind your driving among these holes and stumps, instead of talking about Jean and her idle nonsense. Indeed, father, that last jolt nearly threw me out of the chaise.”
“Weel, Jessie, ye need na mak’ such a pother about a stump mair or less atween Marietta and Mooshanne; and though I’ll no say that my drivin’ is like that of Jehu, the son of Jehoshaphat, ye need na fear that I’ll coup the braw new chaise for a’ that.”
Jessie was well pleased to have turned her father’s thoughts into another channel; and being a little ashamed of the momentary irritation to which she had given way, she now exerted herself to please and amuse him, in which she succeeded so well that they reached Mooshanne in cheerful mood, and with wheels uninjured by hole or stump.
Colonel Brandon, seeing the merchant drive up to the door just as he, with Lucy and Aunt Mary, were about to sit down to dinner, went himself to the door, and, with the frank hospitality of his nature, invited him and his daughter to share their family meal. This invitation was no small gratification to the pride of David Muir, who had on former visits to Mooshanne regaled himself with Monsieur Perrot in the pantry. The boxes and parcels having been safely deposited, and the chaise sent round to the stable, Lucy aided Jessie to uncloak and unbonnet, and in a few minutes the party, thus increased, found themselves assembled at the Colonel’s table.
“My worthy friend,” said the latter, addressing his guest, “you seem to have brought an unusual variety of packages to–day; I suppose the greater part of them are for Lucy’s benefit rather than for mine?”
“Maybe Jessie has brought a few things fresh frae Philadelphy for Miss Lucy to look at,” replied David; “but the maist part o’ what I hae wi’ me the day, came late yestreen, by Rob Mitchell’s batteau from St. Louis. There’s a wheen letters and parcels frae Messieurs Steiner and Roche, which will, nae doubt, explain the settlement o’ the matter anent your shares in the fur trade.”