Playing With Fire - Amelia E. Barr

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to his stepmother, to Father, and to me he was equally polite. He did not treat me indifferently because I have only the shy, half-formed manners of a school-girl. He paid you as much respect as he paid Lady Cramer, though you are old and beneath her in social rank, nor was he in the least subservient to Father because he is a famous minister. He was equally attentive and courteous to all."

      "I will take leave to differ with you, Marion Macrae. I am not old. I am in the midway of my life, young in soul, mind and body, and I am nothing beneath Lady Cramer in rank. Keep that in your mind. And you are not a shy, untrained school-girl; you are a young, lovely woman, with the naturally fine manners that come from a good heart and proper education. As for subservience to your father, I saw nothing of it from Lord Cramer, but Lady Cramer deferred to him in everything, and I wonder she has not turned his head round, and his heart inside out with her humility, and homage, and her downcast eyes."

      "She is very pretty, Aunt."

      "She is fairly beautiful. She has the witching ways of those golden-haired women, and all their flattering submissions. She can drop her blue eyes, and then lift them with a flash that would trouble any man's heart that had love or life left in it. And see how wisely and warily she dresses herself—the long, black, satin gown, with its white crape collar and cuffs, and the black and white satin ribbons so fresh and uncreased!"

      "And the wave and curl of her lovely hair, under the small white lace bonnet! I thought, Aunt, she——"

      "She ought not to have worn a white bonnet. It is too soon after her husband's death to wear a bit of white lace and a few white flowers on her head. She should have worn her widow's bonnet for two years, and it is wanting half a year at least of that term. But, this or that, she is a butterfly of beauty and vanity, and I would not be astonished if she fell in love with your father. To most women he would be an extraordinarily attractive man."

      "O Aunt Jessy, what an idea! That would be the most unlikely of things."

      "For that very reason it is likely."

      "Father never notices women except in a religious way—when they are in trouble, or want his advice about their souls."

      "You can no more judge your father by his outside than you can judge a cocoanut. He has a volcanic soul—ordinarily the fire is low and quiet, but if it should become active it would be a dangerous thing to meddle with."

      "Father may have an austere face, but he has a tender mouth; and, O Aunt, I have seen love leap into his shadowy eyes when I have met him at the door, or drawn my chair close to his side in the evening."

      "Your father is a good man. He has a genius for divine things—but women are not reckoned in that class."

      "And I think Lord Cramer is a good man, though his genius may be for military things. He had the light of battle on his face this afternoon when he told us of that fight with the Afghans; and how sad was his expression when he described the burying of his company's colonel after it—the open grave in a cleft of hills dark with pines, the solemn dead march, the noble words spoken as they left their leader forever, and turned back to camp to the tender, homely strains of Annie Laurie. Oh, I could see and hear all. I have felt ever since as if I had been present."

      "He appears to be a fine young fellow, though we must remember that men judge men better than women can; and it may be possible your father's opinion of Lord Richard Cramer has at least some truth in it."

      "I do not believe it has. I think, also, that Lord Cramer is the handsomest man I ever saw. Just compare him with Allan Reid."

      "Why are you speaking of Allan Reid?"

      "Because Father thinks I will marry the creature."

      "Will you do as your father wishes?"

      "Once, I might have done so—perhaps. Not now. My eyes have been opened. I have seen a man like Lord Richard Cramer, and I will marry no man of a meaner kind. How tall and straight and slender is his figure! How bold and manly his face! His gray eyes are full of quick, undaunted spirit, he is all nerve and fire, and I believe he could love as well as I am sure he can fight."

      "You need not take love into the question. Richard Cramer will be compelled to marry a rich woman. Your father says he is bound both by honor and necessity to do so."

      Marion buried her face in the mignonette, and did not answer; and Mrs. Caird, after a few moments' silence, said:

      "Be glad that your heart is your own, and do not give it away until it is asked for."

      "As if I would be so foolish, Aunt! I stand by Lord Cramer because people tell lies about him. I always stand by anyone wronged. I would even stand by Allan Reid, if I knew he was slandered without just cause."

      "That is very good of you. If Allan heard tell of your opinion, he would get someone to lie him into your favor."

      "He could not, because I would believe anything bad of Allan."

      Then Mrs. Caird laughed, and Marion wondered why. She had forgotten the exception just made in his favor. Her thoughts were not with Allan Reid.

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      "The songs our souls rejoiced to hear

       When harps were in the hall;

       And each proud note made lance and spear

       Thrill on the banner'd wall.

      "God sent his singers upon earth,

       With songs of sadness and of mirth.

       That they might touch the hearts of men

       And bring them back to heaven again."

      The Minister had said he would go and read awhile, and Mrs. Caird had heard him unpacking the box of books that had arrived. But at that hour he went no further than to arrange them conveniently on a table at his side. He was too utterly amazed at Mrs. Caird's admitting that she had read criticisms and reviews of books she considered objectionable for himself. He remembered then, what he had only casually observed during all the years she had dwelt with him, that Jessy Caird was never without a book in her work-basket. But he had noticed on all of them the cover and the mark of the public library, and had felt certain they were novels. And, as the children were at schools and she much alone, he had been considerate in the matter and not asked any questions. How could he suspect that such objectionable literature was lying openly among her knitting and mending?

      As he made this reflection, his eyes sought the volumes lying on the table, and he noticed that his Bible was close to them. Its familiar aspect brought a warm, comfortable sense to his heart. It was surely the Word of His Father in heaven. He leaned forward and laid his head affectionately upon it. What a Friend it had been to him! What a Counselor! In every way he had such a tremendous prepossession in its truth and blessing that he could smile defiantly at any man, or any man's book, being able to make him doubt a tittle of its law or its promises.

      "The heavens and the earth may pass away," he said, "but not one word of God shall perish!" And, though he spoke softly, as to his own heart, the affirmation was hot with the love and fervor that thrilled the words through and through. In a few moments he rose, lifted the Book with tender homage, and laid it on a small table holding nothing but one white moss rose in a slender crystal vase. He did it without intention, actuated by a sudden spiritual reverence for holy things.

      But as soon as the transfer was accomplished he began to reason about it. "Why did I remove the Bible?" he asked himself. He was not sure why, but he was sure that the impulse to do so had been a good and proper one.

      "There is no book that

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