A novice in the family might have supposed, from her extraordinary ogling as she said it, as well as from a singular rapture or ecstasy which pervaded her elbows, as if she were embracing herself, that ′one,′ in its most favourable interpretation, meant a chaste salute. Indeed the Doctor himself seemed alarmed, for the moment; but quickly regained his composure, as Clemency, having had recourse to both her pockets - beginning with the right one, going away to the wrong one, and afterwards coming back to the right one again - produced a letter from the Post-office.
′Britain was riding by on a errand,′ she chuckled, handing it to the Doctor, ′and see the mail come in, and waited for it. There′s A. H. in the corner. Mr. Alfred′s on his journey home, I bet. We shall have a wedding in the house - there was two spoons in my saucer this morning. Oh Luck, how slow he opens it!′
All this she delivered, by way of soliloquy, gradually rising higher and higher on tiptoe, in her impatience to hear the news, and making a corkscrew of her apron, and a bottle of her mouth. At last, arriving at a climax of suspense, and seeing the Doctor still engaged in the perusal of the letter, she came down flat upon the soles of her feet again, and cast her apron, as a veil, over her head, in a mute despair, and inability to bear it any longer.
′Here! Girls!′ cried the Doctor. ′I can′t help it: I never could keep a secret in my life. There are not many secrets, indeed, worth being kept in such a - well! never mind that. Alfred′s coming home, my dears, directly.′
′Directly!′ exclaimed Marion.
′What! The story-book is soon forgotten!′ said the Doctor, pinching her cheek. ′I thought the news would dry those tears. Yes. "Let it be a surprise," he says, here. But I can′t let it be a surprise. He must have a welcome.′
′Directly!′ repeated Marion.
′Why, perhaps not what your impatience calls "directly,"′ returned the doctor; ′but pretty soon too. Let us see. Let us see. To-day is Thursday, is it not? Then he promises to be here, this day month.′
′This day month!′ repeated Marion, softly.
′A gay day and a holiday for us,′ said the cheerful voice of her sister Grace, kissing her in congratulation. ′Long looked forward to, dearest, and come at last.′
She answered with a smile; a mournful smile, but full of sisterly affection. As she looked in her sister′s face, and listened to the quiet music of her voice, picturing the happiness of this return, her own face glowed with hope and joy.
And with a something else; a something shining more and more through all the rest of its expression; for which I have no name. It was not exultation, triumph, proud enthusiasm. They are not so calmly shown. It was not love and gratitude alone, though love and gratitude were part of it. It emanated from no sordid thought, for sordid thoughts do not light up the brow, and hover on the lips, and move the spirit like a fluttered light, until the sympathetic figure trembles.
Dr. Jeddler, in spite of his system of philosophy - which he was continually contradicting and denying in practice, but more famous philosophers have done that - could not help having as much interest in the return of his old ward and pupil as if it had been a serious event.
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