Pearl of Pearl Island | Page 4

"That is quite right. That is quite as it should be. Anything more, so
early as this, would imply unmaidenliness on her part."
"Truly? You mean it? You are, without exception, the most charming
old lady in the world! You relieve my mind immensely. You see, she is
always so sweet and charming. But then she could not be anything else,
and it may really mean nothing. Do you really think I may hope?"

"'White-handed Hope, thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings,'"
she quoted, with a smile.
"That's Margaret," he murmured rapturously.
"It's a poor kind of man that gives up hope until he lies in his coffin,
and even then--" and she nodded thoughtfully, as though tempted to a
descent into metaphysics.
"Let us talk of bridal wreaths. They are very much nicer to think of
than coffins when one is discussing Margaret Brandt."
"She is very sweet and very beautiful--"
"There never was anyone like her in this world--unless it was my
mother and yourself."
"Let Margaret be first with you, my boy. That also is as it should be.
Neither your dear mother nor I stand in need of empty compliments.
Margaret Brandt is worthy any good man's whole heart, and perhaps I
can be of some help to you. But, all the same, remember what I've said.
You may be too late in the field."
"You are just the splendidest old lady in the world," he said exuberantly;
and added, with a touch of gloom, "She was talking of going off to the
Riviera."
"Ah, then, I suppose I shall be in eclipse also, until she returns."
"Oh no, you won't. We can talk of her, you know," at which Lady
Elspeth's eyes twinkled merrily.
"What would you say to convoying a troublesome old lady to the
Riviera, yourself, Jock?"
"You?" and he jumped up delightedly,--and just at that point old
Hamish opened the door of the cosy room, and announced--
"Miss Brandt, mem!"

II
"Miss Brandt, mem!" announced old Hamish, in as dry and
matter-of-fact a voice as though it were only, "Here's the doctor, mem!"
or "Dinner's ready, mem!" and Margaret herself came in, rosy-faced
and bright-eyed from the kiss of the wind outside.
Lady Elspeth laughed enjoyably at the sight of her, and touched the bell
for tea.
"You are always like a breath from the heather to me, my dear, or a
glimpse of Schiehallion," said she, as they kissed, and Graeme stood
reverently looking on, as at a holy rite.
"Oh, surely I'm not as rugged and wrinkled as all that!" laughed
Margaret. "And I certainly am not bald. How do you do, Mr. Graeme?"
"There is no need to ask you that question, at any rate," he said, with
visible appreciation.
"I have loved Schiehallion all my life," said Lady Elspeth. "To me there
is no mountain in the world to compare with it. You see how one's
judgment is biassed by one's affections. And how is Mrs. Pixley to-day,
my dear?"
"She is much as usual, dear Lady Elspeth. She is never very lively, you
know. If anything, I think she is, perhaps, a trifle less lively than usual
just now."
"And Mr. Pixley is as busied in good works as ever, I suppose."
"As busy as ever--outside,"--at which gentle thrust the others smiled.
"It's all very well to laugh," remonstrated Margaret, "but truly, you
know, philanthropy, like charity, would be none the less commendable
to its relations if it sometimes remembered that it had a home. I
sometimes think that if ever there was a deserving case it is poor Aunt
Susan."

"And young Mr. Pixley? Doesn't he liven you up?" asked Lady Elspeth.
"He is very good company, I am told."
"Oh, Charles is excellent company. If we didn't see him now and again
the house would be like a tomb. But he's not there all the time, and we
have relapses. He has his own rooms elsewhere, you know. And I'm
really not surprised. It taxes even him to lighten the deadly dulness of
Melgrave Square."
"It must be a great comfort to Mrs. Pixley to have you with her, my
dear."
"I can't make up for all she lacks in other directions," said Margaret,
with a shake of the head. "I get quite angry with Uncle Jeremiah
sometimes. He is so--so absorbed in benefiting other people that
he--Well, you can understand how delightful it is to be able to run in
here and find the sun always shining."
"Thank you, my dear," said Lady Elspeth, with a twinkle in the brown
eyes. "Some people carry their own sunshine with them wherever they
go."
"And some people decidedly don't," said Margaret, who was evidently
suffering from some unusual exhibition of Pixleyism.
"It is generally possible to find a