That evening when Alice Colman returned home, her husband surprised her with the intelligence that Walter Malcolm was aware of her relationship to him. Before she went there in the morning, Mr. Colman had advised her on no account to allow his brother to suspect from whom he received the needful aid, for he feared that Walter still entertained against him the old feeling of hatred, and that it would awaken unpleasant emotions in his heart if he knew that the brother he had deserted was now destined to be his chief reliance. But the caution to his wife was unnecessary. Walter Malcolm had made inquiries of Maggie concerning the family to whom he was indebted, and from their minuteness Harry Colman was confident that he had been recognised. And that his brother had not forgotten his former aversion to him he deemed evident from the fact that he had said nothing of his discovery, during the day, to Mrs. Colman. The latter however thought differently. Julie’s father had spoken his thanks for that draught of water too earnestly for her to join in her husband’s belief, and she expressed her conviction that he repented his past conduct, and that he merely wanted courage to confess his penitence.
But day after day passed on, and yet there was no allusion to the subject on the part of Walter Malcolm. Meanwhile his daughter had passed the crisis of the fever and was declared convalescent. If the appearance of Julie Malcolm in the hour of delirium had attracted the fancy of Alice Colman and her nurse, how much more were they drawn toward her when her mind was freed from the chains that bound it—for gentle and loving-hearted, her grateful spirit manifested itself in various little touching ways toward those who had watched over her during her dangerous illness. When she grew stronger and was able to enter into conversation, a perfect understanding arose between Mrs. Colman and herself that they were always to be friends. Alice Colman felt that she already loved Julie dearly—and the latter was not slow in returning the affection of one whose timely succor had saved her life. Still the young girl suspected not that they were kindred by law as in heart.
It was soon settled that when Julie became entirely recovered, she should undertake the duties of governess to Mrs. Colman’s children, and this new office was to afford her the means of support. A more suitable residence had been sought by Alice Colman for Julie and her father, and they were to remove into it as soon as the former had gained sufficient strength to bear the fatigue. Two more weeks elapsed ere this last project was effected—and they were then comfortably settled in their new abode.
And still there was no sign from Walter Malcolm that he knew of his brother’s agency in the change wrought in his affairs. He was now generally reserved when Mrs. Colman was near, and his countenance often wore a deep shade of gloom.
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CHAPTER III.
The first day that Julie Malcolm felt equal to the exertion was spent at the house of her new friend, and then it was that for the first time since her childhood, Harry Colman beheld his niece. So strongly impressed upon his mind was the recollection of her early fondness for him, and the soothing influence which her winning, affectionate ways had possessed over his spirit, that had he now obeyed the voice of impulse he would fain have clasped Julie once more to his heart; for though he now looked upon a beautiful and graceful maiden of eighteen, he could scarcely view her in any other light than as the darling child whose caresses had so often comforted him when greeted by every other voice with coldness. Yet recalling the fact that their relationship could not be breathed to her by himself, he was obliged to meet her with the reserve of a perfect stranger. But all formality between them soon vanished, and an hour after their introduction found them conversing together with the ease of old acquaintanceship. Nor had Julie forgotten, in her own frank earnest manner, to thank him again and again for the services his family had rendered her father and herself—while her soft dark eyes filled with tears as she spoke of the debt which by gratitude only she could repay. Harry Colman longed to tell her that he was the debtor—and that by his wife’s attention to her, Julie had but been rewarded for the love she had accorded him when all other hearts were steeled against him.
Mrs. Colman saw with delight her husband’s increasing predeliction for his niece—for by renewing his former affection for Julie, she hoped to make the young girl at some future day, the instrument of reconciliation between the estranged brothers.
The day of Julie’s visit to the Colmans was a happy one to all parties. Even little Effie Colman and her brother Willie, though at first rather shy of the lady, who, as they were told, was to initiate them into the mysteries of the primer, had become very fond of her, and were exceedingly loath to let her go when the time appointed for her return home arrived. Then, with her arms entwined about Julie’s neck, little Effie besought her to say when she was coming to them daily—and the following week was accordingly named for the commencement of her career as preceptress to the children.
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