The Bairn of Brianag - Page 144/180

When we reached home, the drapes on the front windows were drawn; Mrs.

Randall's concession to the cold. But when the door was opened to us, light poured out. A fire blazed in the drawing room, where Mr. Randall was roasting peanuts. Catherine and John sat on the sofa, and John held little James. My heart swelled with happiness. "Come in, come in!" said Mr. Randall; "draw near. How cold it is! Surely you are all perishing with it!"

We sat down and cake and wine was served; soon we were warm again. Mrs.

Randall came downstairs to join us.

"We have heard from Robbie," she said; "Jessie, there is a letter for you."

"Oh! Indeed!" I said, and felt my cheeks color swiftly. "Is he well? Is he safe?"

"He tells us that he is quite safe, that the farm is secure," she said; "but perhaps you wish to read your own letter." She handed it to me.

I looked at the letter, realizing that my hands were trembling. I broke the seal and unfolded it. The writing blurred before my eyes. I blinked. The letter was dated a week previously.

"My dear Jessie," he had written. "I am writing to assure you and the family that I am safe and well. There have been some attacks by the bandits upon some of our neighbors; but, I am thankful to say, none here at Barraigh. Perhaps the reputation of the McDonald clan prevents them from molesting us." I could see his grin as I read the lines.

"As I am now content that Barraigh and its inhabitants are quite safe, I intend to travel to Brianag in time for Christmas. I look forward to seeing you and Brianag soon.

"Your loving husband, Robert Stewart."

My loving husband! I laughed, and wiped my cheeks. When I looked up, I realized that everyone was waiting for me to speak.

"He will come home for Christmas!" I said, and they all smiled.

"Good! Good!" said my father.

"Yes, he says so in our letter, as well," said Mrs. Randall.

I folded the letter and put it into my pocket. Mr. Randall held out the tray of peanuts too me and I took some, and cracked them between my fingers, but I could not eat them. I soon excused myself, begging weariness, and went upstairs to the bedroom.

Rabbit brought my supper and helped me undress; I sat at the dressing table as she brushed my hair. It had now recovered its usual shine; in the candlelight it shimmered with amber lights. My face was pale; my eyes large. I sent Rabbit away.