Christine - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (the kiss of deception read online TXT) 📗

that's a'. And it leaves me hungrier than ever;" and he smiled and clasped her hands so fondly, that she sat down beside him, and let him draw her close to his heart.

"Dearest woman on earth," he whispered, "when will you be my ain? My very ain! My wife!"

"When the right time comes, laddie. I love none better than you. I'm not likely to love anyone better. When the right time comes----"

"What do you ca' the right time?"

"When I can marry without neglecting any duty that God has left in my hands to perform, or look after. I canna say mair. There are many things to consider. Mither could not be left yet, and I am not going to leave her for any man--and I hae promised to tak' a' the care and charge o' Allan's little lad, but it's Mither I am thinking mainly on."

"How soon will she be well?"

"In God's good time."

"Christine, surely I hae trysted you this very hour. Give me ane, just ane kiss, dearie. I'll get through years, if need be, wi' a kiss and a promise, and work will be easy to do, and siller be easy to save, if Christine be at the end o' them."

Then he kissed her, and Christine did not deny him, but when he took from his vest pocket a pretty gold ring holding an emerald stone, she shook her head.

"It's your birthstone, dearie," he said, "and it will guard you, and bring you luck, and, mind you o' me beside. Tak' it, frae Cluny, do!"

"Na, na, Cluny! I hae often heard my mither say, 'I hae plenty now, but the first thing I owned was my wedding ring.'"

"I thought it would mind you o' Cluny, and the promise ye hae just made him."

"If I mak' a promise, Cluny, I'll be requiring no reminder o' the same."

"Will you gie me a lock o' your bonnie brown hair, to wear next my heart?"

"I'll hae no charms made out o' my hair. Tak' my word, just as I gave it. As far as I know, I'll stand by my word, when the right time comes."

"If you would just say a word anent the time. I mean as to the probabilities."

"I won't. I can't, Cluny. I havna the ordering o' events. You'll be back and forth doubtless. Where are you going?"

"To the Mediterranean service, on ane o' the Henderson boats. I'll be making siller on thae boats."

"Dinna mak' it for me. It is you, your ain sel' I'll marry, and I wouldna mind if we started wi' the wedding ring, as Mither did. Folks may happen live on love, but they canna live without it."

"I would hae chosen you, Christine, from out o' a warld fu' o' women, but I like to think o' you as mine by predestination, as well as choice."

"I didna think your Calvinism went that far, Cluny. They'll be haeing a kirk session on your views, if you publicly say the like. Ye be to ta' care o' the elders, laddie."

They could talk now cheerfully and hopefully, and Cluny went away from Christine that night like a new man, for


There is no pleasure like the pain
Of being loved, and loving.


Then every day seemed to be happier than the last. The child was sunshine in the house, whatever the weather might be. His thin, soft voice, his light step, above all, his shy little laugh, went to their hearts like music. He had only learned to laugh since he came to Culraine. Margot remembered the first time she had heard him laugh. She said he had been almost afraid, and that he had looked inquiringly into her face, as if he had done something he should not have done.

So the weeks and the months wore away, and the winter came, but the weather was sunny and not very cold, and in early December Ruleson wrapped his grandson up in one of his own pilot coats, and took him to the boat, and carried him to the fishing ground, and showed him how to cast and draw the line. And Jamie took naturally to the sea, and loved it, and won Ruleson's heart over again, whenever he begged to go with him.

Then Christmas and New Year were approaching, and there were many other pleasures and interests. Faith's marriage was drawing near, and she was frequently at Ruleson's, for the girl relied on Christine's help and advice in all matters concerning the new life to which she was going. This year also, Christmas was made memorable by a box full of gifts which came all the way from Rome, with the compliments and good will of the Ballisters and which contained many remembrances for the villagers. For Ruleson himself there was a fine barometer, to Margot a brooch and earrings of white cameo, and to Christine some lovely lace, and a set of scarlet coral combs, beads, and earrings. To Christine's care there was also intrusted a box full of Roman ribbons, scarves, and neckties, their wonderful hues making them specially welcome gifts to people so fond of brilliant colors.

From these gay treasures a scarf and sash were selected for the bride, and the rest were sent on Christmas Eve to the young girls of the village. Many other pretty trifles were among the gifts--fans and sets of Roman pearls, and laces for the neck and head, and pretty veils, and fancy handkerchiefs, and in a long letter Angus directed Christine to do her will with all he sent. He only wished to repay to the village the happy hours he had spent in it the past summer.

This letter was not lover-like, but it was friendly, and sad. He said so much might have been, and yet nothing he longed for had happened. He recalled tender little episodes, and declared they were the only memories he valued. The whole tone of the letter was the tone of a disappointed and hopeless man, to whom life had lost all its salt and savor. Christine read it carefully. She was determined not to deceive herself, and in a wakeful watch of the night, she went over it, and understood.

"There isna ony truth in it," she said to herself, "and I needna gie a thought to the lad's fine words. He is writing anent a made-up sorrow. I'll warrant he is the gayest o' the gay, and that the memory o' Christine is a little bit o' weariness to him. Weel, he has gi'en what he could buy--that's his way, and he will mak' in his way a deal o' pleasure among the young lasses." And the next day the bits of brilliant silk were sorted and assigned, and then sent to the parties chosen, with the Ballister compliments. The affair made quite a stir in the cottages, and Angus would have been quite satisfied, if he could have heard the many complimentary things that the prettiest girls in Culraine said of him.

Two days before Christmas Day, Neil made his family a short visit. He was looking very well, was handsomely dressed, and had all the appearance and air of a man thoroughly satisfied with himself and his prospects. He only stayed a short afternoon, for his friend Reginald was waiting for him at the hotel, and he made a great deal of his friend Reginald.

"You should hae brought him along wi' you," said Margot, and Neil looked at Christine and answered--"I lost one friend, with bringing him here, and I am not a man who requires two lessons on any subject."

"Your friend had naething but kindness here, Neil," answered Christine, "and he isna o' your opinion." And then she told him of the Christmas presents sent from Rome.

"Exactly so! That is what I complain of. All these gifts to you and the villagers, were really taken from me. I have not been remembered. Last Christmas I was first of all. A woman between two men always makes loss and trouble. I ought to have known that."

"Weel, Neil," said Margot, "there's other kindnesses you can think o'er."

"I have not had a single New Year's gift this year--yet. I suppose Reginald will not forget me. I have my little offering to him ready;" and he took a small box from his pocket, and showed them a rather pretty pair of sleeve buttons. "Yes, they are pretty," he commented, "rather more than I could afford, but Reginald will return the compliment. I dare say it will be the only one I shall receive."

"You ought not to forget, Neil," said Margot, in a not very amiable tone, "you ought to remember, that you had your New Year's gifts at Midsummer."

"Oh, I never forget that! I could not, if I would," he answered with an air of injury, and Christine to avert open disagreement, asked, "Where will you stay in Glasgow, Neil?"

"I shall stay with Reginald, at his sister's house. She lives in highly respectable style, at number twelve, Monteith Row. The row is a fine row o' stone houses, facing the famous Glasgow Green, and the Clyde river. She is a great beauty, and I expect to be the honored guest of the occasion."

"Will you hae time to hunt up your brithers in Glasgow? Some o' them will nae doubt be in port, and you might call at Allan's house, and tell them that little Jamie is doing fine."

"I do not expect I shall have a moment to spare. If I have, I will make inquiries. I think, however, Miss Rath is going to make rather a gay time in my honor, and I shall feel obligated to observe all its occasions."

"How old is Miss Rath?" asked Christine.

"I have never asked her age. I suppose she is over twenty, as she controls her own property."

"Happen you may lose your heart to her."

"O! I am not a man to lose anything so important."

"Weel, weel, you're nae wiser than the lave o' men, Neil."

"I think I am, Christine. At least, I have that reputation."

"Will you hae a cup o' tea, Neil?"

It was Christine who asked him, and he answered, "No. I had just finished a good lunch, when I came here, and Reginald said he should wait dinner for me. He orders very liberally, I must say," and he took out a new gold watch, and looked at the time.

His mother saw it at once, and glanced at Christine, who instantly followed an exclamation of wonder, by asking, "Whoever gave ye the bonnie timepiece, Neil?"

"I gave it to myself, Christine. I have been coaching Reginald, and two or three other students, and it's rather a paying business. I shall do a great deal in that way after the New Year. Well, I think I must be going."

"Your feyther will be hame within an hour. He'll hae our wonderfu' bairn wi' him. You will surely stay and see them."

"You mean Allan's son?"

"Ay," answered Christine, "he's a beauty, and he is sae clever, we'll be needing a school, and the set o' teachers in it, to keep the lad within the proper scope o' knowledge. He's a maist remarkable boy!"

"I used to fill that position," said Neil.

"Not you," said Margot. "You were a puir weakling, every way. It took everyone's love and labor to bring you through. I'm not sure now, if you were worth it. It