"P. S.--I am afraid Rose would hardly answer this purpose equally well."
Colonel Keith followed his letter at four o'clock, and entering his
own study, found it in a cloud of smoke, in the midst of which he dimly
discerned a long beard and thin visage absorbed in calculation.
"Edward! How is Ermine?"
"Oh?" (inquiringly) "Keith!" (as taken by surprise) "ah! you were to
come home to-day. How are you?"
"How is she? Has she had my letter?"
"What letter? You write every day, I thought."
"The letter of yesterday. Have you heard nothing of it?"
"Not that I know of. Look here, Keith, I told you I was sure the
platinum--"
"Your brain is becoming platinum. I must go," and the chemist remained
with merely a general impression of having been interrupted.
Next the Colonel met Rose, watching at his own gate, and this time his
answer was more explicit.
"Yes, Aunt Ermine said you were coming, and that I might meet you, but
that I must let you come in alone, for she had not seen you so long,
that she wanted you all to herself."
"And how is she; how has she been?"
"She is well now," said Rose, in the grave, grown-up way she always
assumed when speaking of her aunt's health; "but she has been having a
good deal of her nervous headache this summer, and Lady Temple wanted
her to see Mr. Frampton, but Aunt Ailie said it was only excitement and
wear of spirits. Oh, I am glad you have come back! We have so wearied
after you."
Nevertheless Rose duteously loosed the hand to which she had been
clinging till they came to the door; and as Colin Keith opened it, again
he was met by the welcoming glances of the bright eyes. This time he did
not pause till he was close to her, and kneeling on one knee beside her,
he put his arm round her, and held her hands in his.
The first words that passed were, "You had the letters?"
"Colin, Colin, my one prayer has been, 'Make Thy way plain before my
face.'"
"And now it is?"
"The suspicion is gone; the displeasure is gone; the doubts are gone;
and now there is nothing--nothing but the lameness and the poverty; and
if you like the old cinder, Colin, that is your concern;" and she hid
her face, with a sort of sobbing laugh.
"And even the haste; you consent to that?"
"I don't feel it like haste," she said, looking up with a smile, and
then crimsoning.
"And Ailie gives leave, and thinks the hurry will not harm you?"
"Ailie! O Colin, did you think I could tell any one of your letter,
before you had had your answer?"