style="font-size:15px;"> "Our sufferings and deprivations are unavoidable, sir. Is there any use in quarreling with the wheel that splashes us?"
"There is nane; yet, if men have grievances – "
"Grievances! That is a word that always pleases, and always cheats. There are no grievances between you and me, I hope."
"None to breed ill-will. Human nature is fallible, but as a rule, Tory doesna eat Tory."
"And as for the Whigs, Elder, you know the old fable of the wolf and the lamb. Judging from that past event, Tory and Whig may soon make an eternal peace."
He went out well pleased at the implication, and Neil, after a few moments' silence, said, "I am going to register these documents, sir, or I would walk home with you."
"Much obligated to you, Neil, but I can tak' very good care o' mysel'. And I have a letter from your brother Alexander. I must see what news he sends, before I tell your mother."
He was opening his letter as he spoke, carefully cutting round the large red seal, which bore the arms of the Semples, and which, therefore, he would have thought it a kind of sacrilege to mutilate. A cup of coffee had been brought to him, and he took one drink of it, and then no more; for everything was quickly forgotten or ignored in the intelligence he was receiving. That it was unexpected and astonishing was evident from his air of perplexity and from the emotion which quite unconsciously found relief in his constant ejaculation, "Most extraordinary! Most extraordinary!"
Finally, he folded up the epistle, threw a shilling on the table for his entertainment, and with more speed than was usual, took the road to the west of Broadway. He had been remarkable in days past for his erect carriage, but he walked now with his head bent and his eyes fixed on the ground. There was so much that he did not want to see, though he was naturally the most curious and observant of mortals. Fifteen minutes' walk brought him to the river side, and anon to a large house separated from his own by a meadow. There were horses tied to the fence and horses tethered in the garden; and in a summer-house under a huge linden tree, a party of soldiers drinking and playing dominoes. The front door was partly open, and a piece of faded red ribbon was nailed on its lintel. Semple knocked loudly with his walking-stick, and immediately a stout, rosy woman came toward him, wiping her hands on a clean towel as she did so.
"Well, then, Elder!" she cried, "you are a good sight! What is the matter, that you never come once to see us, this long time?"
"I come now to bring you good news Joanna – Madame, I should say."
"No, no! I make not so much ceremony. When you say 'Joanna' I think of the good days, before everybody was unfriends with each other."
"Well, then, Joanna, your husband is back again; as he says, safe and sound, and I promised him to let you know as I passed."
"But come in once, Elder – come in!"
"Some day – some day soon. I am in haste at this time – and you have much company, I see." He spoke with evident disapproval, and Joanna was at once on the defensive.
"I know not how to alter that. A good wife must do some little thing these hard times; for what is to come after them, who knows – and there are many boys and girls – but I am not discontented; I like to look at the bright side, and that is right, is it not?"
Semple had already turned away, and he only struck his cane on the flagged walk in answer. For while Joanna was speaking he had casually noticed the fluttering red ribbon above her head; and it had brought from the past a memory, unbidden and unexpected, which filled his eyes with the thin, cold tears of age, and made his heart tremble with a fear he would not allow himself to entertain.
He was so troubled that he had to consciously gather his forces together before he entered his own dwelling. It, at least, kept visible state and order; the garden, perhaps, showed less variety and wealth of flowers; but the quiet dignity of its handsomely furnished rooms was intact. In their usual parlor, which was at the back of the house, he found his wife. "You are late to-day, Alexander," she said pleasantly; "I was just waiting till I heard your footstep. Now I can make the tea."
"I'll be glad o' a cup, Janet. I'm fairly tired, my dearie."
"What kept you so far ahint your ordinar time? I thought it long waiting for you."
"Twa or three things kept me, that I am not accountable for. I was on the way hame, when Batavius De Vries spoke to me."
"He's back again, is he? Few words would do between you and him."
"He brought me a letter from our lad in Boston; and I thought I would go into the King's Arms and read it."
"You might have come hame."
"I might; but I thought if there was any bad news folded in the paper, I would just leave it outside our hame."
"There is naething wrang, then?"
"It is an astonishment – the lad has sold all he had and gone to Scotland. When he can find a small estate that suits him, he thinks o' buying it, and becoming 'Semple o' that Ilk.' Alexander aye had a hankering after land."
"He has the siller, I suppose; there is no land given awa in Scotland."
"Alexander wasn't born yesterday. He has been sending siller to England ever since the first whisper o' these troubles. Ten years ago, he told me the Stamp Act riots spelt Revolution and maybe Independence; and that in such case the best we could hope for would be a dozen or mair states, each with its ain rights and privileges and government; and a constant war between them. He is a far-seeing lad, is Alexander."
"I think little o' his far sight. There are others who see further and clearer: petty states and constant war! Na, na! It's not so written."
"Perhaps he is right, Janet."
"Perhaps is a wide word, Alexander. Perhaps he is wrang. Has he sailed yet? And pray, what is to become of the little Maria?"
"He sailed a week since – and Maria is coming to us."
"Coming to us! And what will we do wi' the lassie?"
"We'll just hae to love and comfort her. In a way she has neither father nor mother – the one being in the grave and the other beyond seas. She may be a pleasure to our auld age; when she was here last she was a bonnie, lovesome little creature."
"That is mair than eight years ago, and she was eight years old then; she'll be sixteen and a half, or, perhaps, nearer seventeen now – you ken weel what to expect from lassies o' that indiscreet age; or, if you don't, you ought to."
"I know she is our ain grandbairn and that we be to give her love and all that love calls for. She was the very image o' yoursel' Janet, and her father was much set up o'er the extraordinar likeness."
"I thought she favored you, Alexander."
"A little – a little, perhaps – but not enough to spoil her. If she has kept the Gordon beauty, she will be a' the mair welcome to me. I have aye had a strong prejudice in its favor;" and he leaned forward and took Madame's small brown hand, and then there was a look and a smile between the old lovers that made all words impotent and unnecessary.
Such pauses are embarrassing; the lealest hearts must come back quickly to ordinary life, and as the Elder passed his cup for more tea, Madame asked: "What way is the lassie coming? By land or water?"
"She
