David Fleming's Forgiveness. Margaret M. Robertson
of their sport. In the effort he made to entertain the old gentleman Mr. Maxwell looked still more like other people, and Clifton’s coat, which he wore, helped to the same effect.
“I stumbled over him lying on his face in Finlay’s grove,” said Clifton to his sister. “He would have run away, if I had not been too much for him. We borrowed Joe Finlay’s rod, and he went fishing with me. It is a great deal better for him than being stunned by women’s talk at Mrs. Jacob’s.”
“Yes, the sewing-circle!” said Elizabeth, “What will Mrs. Jacob say? Did he forget it? Of course he was expected home.”
“He said nothing about it, nor did I. Jacob asked me to go over in the evening. Why are you not there?”
“I have been there all the afternoon. I came home to make father’s tea. I told Mrs. Jacob I would go back. I am afraid Mr. Maxwell’s coming here to-night will offend her.”
“Of course, but what if it does?”
“And do you like him? Does he improve on acquaintance?”
“He turns out to be flesh and blood, not a skin stuffed with logic, and the odds and ends of other people’s theological opinions. He is a dyspeptic being, homesick and desponding, but he is a man. And look here, Lizzie; if you really want to do a good work, you must take him in hand, and not let Mrs. Jacob, and the deacons, and all the rest of them sit on him.”
“How am I to help it, if such be their pleasure?”
“I have helped it to-night. Don’t say a word about the sewing-circle, lest his conscience should take alarm. I hope I shall see Mrs. Jacob’s face when she hears that he has spent the evening here.”
“I don’t care for Mrs. Jacob, but I am afraid the people may be disappointed.” For in Gershom the ladies met week by week in each other’s houses to sew for the benefit of some good cause, and their husbands and brothers came to tea in the evening, and there was to be a more than usually large gathering on this occasion, Elizabeth knew. “However, I am not responsible,” thought she.
So she said nothing, and her father in a little while said rather querulously, that he hoped she was not going out again.
“Not if you want me, father. It will not matter much, I suppose.”
“You will not be missed,” said her brother.
Mr. Maxwell did not seem to think it was a matter with which he had anything to do. He made no movement to go away when tea was over, and Elizabeth put away all thought of the disappointment of the people assembled, and of her sister-in-law’s displeasure, and enjoyed the evening. Mr. Maxwell seemed to enjoy it too, though he did not say much. Clifton kept himself within bounds, and was amusing without being severe or disagreeable in his descriptions of some of the village customs and characters, and though he said some things to the minister that made his sister a little anxious and uncomfortable for the moment, she could see that their interest in each other increased as the evening wore on.
It came out in the course of the conversation that Mr. Maxwell had made the acquaintance of Ben Holt in his rambles, but he had never been at the Hill-farm, and had very vague ideas as to the Hill Holts or their circumstances, or as to their relationship to the Holts of the village. Clifton professed to be very much surprised.
“Has not Mrs. Jacob introduced you to Cousin Betsey? Has she not told you how many excellent qualities Cousin Betsey has? Only just a little set in her ways,” said Clifton, imitating so exactly Mrs. Jacob’s voice and manner, that no one could help laughing.
“Cousin Betsey is rather set in her ways, and not always agreeable in her manners to Mrs. Jacob,” said Elizabeth. “But you are not to make Mr. Maxwell suppose that there is any disagreement between them.”
“By no means. They are the best of friends when they keep apart, and they don’t meet often. Mrs. Jacob has company when the sewing-circle is to meet at the Hill, and when it meets at Mrs. Jacob’s, Betsey has a great soap-making to keep her at home, or a sick headache, or something. To tell the truth, Cousin Betsey does not care a great deal about any of her village relations, except the squire. But she is a good soul, and a pillar in the church, though she says less about it than some people. I’ll drive you over to the farm some day. Cousin Betsey will put you through your catechism, I can tell you, if she happens to be in a good humour.”
Mr. Maxwell laughed. “I have had some experience of that sort of thing already,” said he. “But I fear it has not been a satisfactory affair to any one concerned.”
“Cousin Betsey will manage better,” said Clifton.
They went to the Hill at the time appointed, and the visit, and some others that they made, were so far successful that the minister took real pleasure in them, and that was more than could be said of any visit he had made before. Miss Betsey did not put him through his catechism in Clifton’s presence; that ceremony was reserved for a future occasion. She was rather stiff and formal in her reception of them, but she thawed out and consented to be pleased and interested before the after noon was over. She smiled and assented with sufficient graciousness when Clifton not only bespoke Ben’s company, on an expedition with gun and rod, which he and Mr. Maxwell were going to make further down the river, but he invited himself and the minister to tea on their way home.
“For you know, Cousin Betsey, that Ben and I won’t be very likely to get into mischief in the minister’s company, and you can’t object to our going this time.”
“If anybody doesn’t object to the minister’s going in your company. That is the thing to be considered, I should say,” said Cousin Betsey, smiling grimly.
“Oh, cousin! do you mean that going fishing with me will compromise the minister? No wonder that you are afraid to trust me with Ben. But I say that a day in the woods with Ben and me will do Mr. Maxwell more good than two or three tea-meetings or sewing-circles. Only you have a good supper ready for us, and I will bring him home hungry as a hunter.”
“Which hasn’t happened very often to him of late, if one may judge from his looks,” said Miss Betsey.
“No, he ought to be living here at the Hill. It would suit him better than Jacob’s. And when are you coming to see us? Lizzie wanted to come with us to-day, but she was afraid you wouldn’t be glad to see her. You never come to our house, and she mustn’t do all the visiting. And, besides, you don’t ask her.”
“It aint likely that she’ll be so hard up for something to amuse her, that she’ll want to fall back on a visit to the Hill. But if she should be, she can come along over, and try how it would seem to visit with mother and Cynthy and me. She’ll always find some of us here.”
“All right. I’ll tell her you asked her, and she’ll be sure to come.”
The success of this visit encouraged Clifton to try more in the minister’s company. For a reason that it was not difficult to understand, Jacob in his rounds had not taken him to visit at Mr. Fleming’s, nor had any one else, and Clifton, remembering his own visit there, took the introduction of Mr. Maxwell at Ythan Brae into his own hands, and Elizabeth went with him. They sailed up the river, and went through the woods as he and Ben had done. It was a lovely autumn day, but there were few tokens of decay in the woods and fields through which they took their way, and they lingered in the sweet air with a pleasure that made them unconscious of the flight of time, and the afternoon was far spent before they sat down to rest on the rocky knoll where Clifton in Ben’s company had renewed his acquaintance with the Fleming children. The remembrance of the time and the scene came back so vividly, that he could not help telling his companions about it. Elizabeth’s face clouded as he repeated Katie’s words about “those avaricious Holts” which had brought him to a sense of the indiscretion he was committing in listening.
“The Flemings are hard upon Jacob. Mr. Maxwell might have been more fortunate in his escort,” said she.
“Nonsense, Lizzie! Mrs. Fleming is far too sensible to confound us with Jacob; and, Lizzie,