There followed such a round of teas on the hill and dinners at the cottage; of picnics, walks, drives, and berry-scouts, that the days gave up their ordinary rate of progress, and flew. June had long been out of sight; and now July was ending, and August close at hand. Magnus indeed closed his ears to the soft flutter, as the days winged by; but not so Mrs. Kindred, and not so Cherry. The girl began to look forward with absolute dismay to the drawing out from her daily life of this gold-twisted silken thread. What should she do, when Magnus was away again? If I say that she was getting bound to him in deeper and finer trust and love, with every new day's experience, it is no more than the truth; and no more, I think, than he deserved. Love for the right sort of woman puts a man at his best, and brings him out wonderfully. Count the minutes? Ah, yes! two hearts at least did that. In just so many days more Magnus must leave them all. Then suppose Mr. Erskine—no, it could not be; and yet, after every such decision, one always goes back to say the "suppose" over again. "Magnus, I do wish you would have your talk with papa," Cherry ventured one day. "You recommended that at first—twice, if I recollect right," remarked Cadet Kindred. "It is such fun to puzzle him." "But it will not be fun to grieve him," Cherry said. "Is he going to be grieved? Then it will all come upon your hands. You know you can wheedle any bird off any bush at any time." "'Wheedle' papa!" Cherry said with some energy. "Not I, I promise you." "Well, I know you mean to keep all your promises to me," said Magnus. "But come along, and see me throw myself at his feet. Then he can save time, and give us his blessing together." "No, I am not going," Cherry said, pulling her hand away and trying not to laugh. "You are worse than Lord Ullin's daughter," said Magnus. "She plunged into all the danger there was around. ChÉrie, will you send me a letter every single day?" "Oh, do not talk about letters yet!" Cherry said, in such a pitiful tone that Magnus forgot all about Mr. Erskine, and gave himself up to the task of comforting her. And it was the father himself who at last, unawares, brought on the talk. "Only twenty days left," he said one morning, when Magnus came into his study and sat down, with an absent-minded air. "Nineteen, sir." "Then you settle down to hard work again." "For two years, sir." "And then?" "Then I take my diploma and a three-months' leave, and come back here." "Three months—till October." "Yes, sir." "I cannot stay until quite October," said Magnus, "but towards that." "And then?" "Then I take Cherry and go to my post." But now Mr. Erskine sat straight up, grasping the arm of his chair. "Take Cherry!" he repeated. "My baby! It is Cherry you want to take to San Carlos?" "It may not be San Carlos, sir. Of course, I must take her wherever I go." "Well, you need not get up before gunfire to bone assurance," said Mr. Erskine. "My Cherry! And what do you suppose she will say to this brilliant plan for her happiness?" "I do not think she much cares where we go, sir," Magnus answered, with easy confidence. It was an indescribable pang that shot through the father's heart. His one treasure, his pearl of all the world, already did not "much care" where she went, so long as she could be with this youngster—put her hand in his, and go! "It may happen that I shall care," he said huskily. "What makes you think I will give her up to go anywhere?" "But you can go, too, you know, sir," Cadet Kindred answered, with that same calm tone which ignores the hard and cuts through the impossible. "We have talked about it a great deal." "It strikes me that a little of the talking should have come to me." "Yes, sir; but then you are so seldom alone—always reading or something on hand—it was hard to find a chance. And then you were sick. And I thought you must see for "So seldom alone," Mr. Erskine repeated rather bitterly. "I suppose it will be often enough in the future. No, do not say another word to me now. Take yourself off, young man, and get out of my sight, and give me a chance to draw my breath. My Cherry!" It was perhaps just as well for everybody that the two guests were still there, and the fun and frolic at high-water mark; the best intentions thereto, or even the justest cause, could not make anybody look grave or stiff or anxious. Therefore Mr. Erskine had time to study up his hard question unnoticed. "Question," indeed, it hardly was. Mr. Erskine knew, without thinking, that he loved Magnus Kindred like his own son; and it took very little awakened observation to show him that, on Cherry's part, the old childish affection had passed into the deepest and strongest that a woman can know. Reserved and self-contained as she always was, her father could see a hundred little tokens which he marvelled he had never noticed before. He watched Magnus, too, with very keen-set eyes, studied him, weighed him in all sorts of scales, and, on the whole, was well content. Just about as much of a boy as ever, only more of a man; gay, saucy, absurd, and sensible; but through it all now, in whatever touched Cherry, there was an indescribable tone of reverence which became him well, as it does any man who has won for himself the priceless trust of a true woman's love. His own love and devotion were patent enough. Magnus had certainly "taken it hard," as people say. The father noted it well, and judged it all of a quality that would wear. Once making up his mind to the situation, it was amusing enough; and the two elders of the party had many a quiet laugh at the skill with which Messrs. Twinkle and "But, Magnus!" Mrs. Kindred protested one day, "you go on like crazy boys, you three. Girls about here aren't used to young fellows who say everything they do not mean. My dear, I fear you are sowing mischief. Jenny Mott went home last night with her head more than half turned." "Easy job for Rig to finish, then," said Magnus. "Never mind, mammy; keep up your spirits. We're not so unlike other boys as you seem to think. It is getting to be rather serious with Twinkle and Viola." "Now, my dear!" Mrs. Kindred said, with her hand on his arm; "now, Magnus! you must not put any nonsense into that child's head!" "Couldn't if I would," said Magnus; "not an inch of room. You couldn't get a grain in sideways after Twinkle's been talking to her. He's a right good fellow, mammy; don't drink, don't smoke, don't flirt—much; and if his light isn't of the very biggest, it's always there, which is better. She might do worse." "But, Magnus, Violet is hardly grown up." "Why don't you tell Twinkle so, and ask him to wait?" said Magnus, with a very grave face. But then he laughed. "Oh, mammy!" he said, "when cadets are about, it's 'all luggage at the risk of the owners.' I had picked out somebody else for Vio, if only he's not gone before she gets there. What a thing it is to have me well settled in life before your anxieties over the girls come on!" And then "But Magnus!" said Mrs. Kindred, calling him back, "you have not told me what Mr. Erskine says. Do you know yourself? He knits his brows so sometimes, when he is looking at you, that I never dare ask him. Is he willing, do you think?" "He will be, before I get through with him," said Magnus confidently, and he went whistling up the hill, as though that small task were done to his hand. |