A Red Wallflower

'Did papa tell you that he went up to Seaforth this summer?'

'He said nothing about it.'

'He did go, however. It was a very great thing for papa to do, too; for he goes nowhere, and it is very hard for him to move; but he went. It was in August. We had heard not a word from Seaforth for such a long, long time, – not for two or three years, I think, – and not a word from you; and papa had a mind to see what was the meaning of it all, and whether anybody was left in Seaforth or not. I thought everybody had forgotten us, and papa said he would go and see.'

'Yes,' said Pitt, as Esther paused.

'And, of course, you know, he found nobody. All our friends were gone, at least. And people told papa you had been home the year before, and had been in Seaforth a long while; and the lady was there too whom you were going to marry; and that this year they had all gone over to see you, that lady and all; and the wedding would probably be before Mr. and Mrs. Dallas came home. So papa came back and told me.'

'And you believed it! Of course.'

'How could I help believing it?' said Esther, smiling; but her eyes avoided Pitt now, and her colour went and came. 'It was a very straight story.'

'Yet not a bit of truth in it. Oh yes, they came over to see me; but I have never thought of marrying Miss Frere, nor any other lady; nor ever shall, unless – you have forgotten me, Esther?'

Esther sat so motionless that Pitt might have thought she had not heard him, but for the swift flashing colour which went and came. She had heard him well enough, and she knew what the words were meant to signify, for the tone of them was unmistakeable; but answer, in any way, Esther could not. She was a very fair image of maidenly modesty and womanly dignity, rather unmistakeable, too, in its way; but she spoke not, nor raised an eyelid.

'Have you forgotten me, Esther?' he repeated gently.

She did not answer then. She was moveless for another instant; and then, rising, with a swift motion she passed out of the room. But it was not the manner of dismissal or leave-taking, and Pitt waited for what was to come next. And in another moment or two she was there again, all covered with blushes, and her eyes cast down, down upon an old book which she held in her hand and presently held open. She was standing before him now, he having risen when she rose. From the very fair brow and rosy cheek and soft line of the lips, Pitt's eye at last went down to the book she held before him. There, on the somewhat large page, lay a dried flower. The petals were still velvety and rich coloured, and still from them came a faint sweet breath of perfume. What did it mean? Pitt looked, and then looked closer.

'It is a Cheiranthus,' he said; 'the red variety. What does it mean,

Esther? What does it say to my question?'

He looked at her eagerly; but if he did not know, Esther could not tell him. She was filled with confusion. What dreadful thing was this, that his memory should be not so good as hers! She could not speak; the lovely shamefaced flushes mounted up to the delicate temples and told their tale, but Pitt, though he read them, did not at once read the flower. Esther made a motion as if she would take it away, but he prevented her and looked closer.

'The red Cheiranthus,' he repeated. 'Did it come from Seaforth? I remember, old Macpherson used to have them in his greenhouse. Esther! – did I bring it to you?'

'Christmas' – stammered Esther. 'Don't you remember?'

'Christmas! Of course I do! It was in that bouquet? What became of the rest of it?'

'Papa made me burn all the rest,' said Esther, with her own cheeks now burning. And she would have turned away, leaving the book in his hands, with an action of as shy grace as ever Milton gave to his Eve; but Pitt got rid of the book and took herself in his arms instead.

And then for a few minutes there was no more conversation. They had reached a point of mutual understanding where words would have been superfluous.

But words came into their right again.

'Esther, do you remember my kissing you when I went away, six or seven years ago?'

'Certainly!'

'I think that kiss was in some sort a revelation to me. I did not fully recognise it then, what the revelation was; but I think, ever since I have been conscious, vaguely, that there was an invisible silken thread of some sort binding me to you; and that I should never be quite right till I followed the clue and found you again. The vagueness is gone, and has given place to the most daylight certainty.'

'I am glad of that,' said Esther demurely, though speaking with a little effort. 'You always liked certainties.'

'Did you miss me?'

'Pitt, more than I can possibly tell you! Not then only, but all the time since. Only one thing has kept me from being very downhearted sometimes, when time passed, and we heard nothing of you, and I was obliged to give you up.'

'You should not have given me up.'

'Yes; there was nothing else for it. I found it was best not to think about you at all. Happily I had plenty of duties to think of. And duties, if you take hold of them right, become pleasures.'

'Doing them for the Master.'

'Yes, and for our fellow-creatures too. Both interests come in.'

'And so make life full and rich, even in common details of it. But,

Queen Esther, – my Queen! – do you know that you will be my Queen always?

That word expresses your future position, as far as I am concerned.'

'No,' said Esther a little nervously; 'I think hardly. Where there is a queen, there is commonly also a king somewhere, you know.'

'His business is to see the queen's commands carried out.'

'We will not quarrel about it,' said Esther, laughing. 'But, after all, Pitt, that is not like you. You always knew your own mind, and always had your own way, when I used to know you.'

'It is your turn.'

'It would be a very odd novelty in my life,' said Esther. 'But now, Pitt, I really must go and see about luncheon. Papa will be down, and Mrs. Barker does not know that you are here. And it would be a sort of relief to take hold of something so commonplace as luncheon; I seem to myself to have got into some sort of unreal fairyland.'

'I am in fairyland too, but it is real.'

'Let me go, Pitt, please!'

'Luncheon is of no consequence.'

'Papa will think differently.'

'I will go out and got some oysters, to conciliate him.'

'To conciliate him!'

'Yes. He will need conciliating, I can tell you. Do you suppose he will look on complacently and see you, who have been wholly his possession and property, pass over out of his hands into mine? It is not human nature.'

Esther stood still and coloured high.

'Does papa know?'

'He knows all about it, Queen Esther; except what you may have said to me. I think he understood what I was going to say to you.'

'Poor papa!' said Esther thoughtfully.

'Not at all,' said Pitt inconsistently. 'We will take care of him together, much better than you could alone.'