"No. He wanted to."
"I am glad to see you!"
MacLeod spared no time.
"You have been very kind," he said, "to my little girl."
Rose, as any sort of little girl, implied an incredible diminishing; but the phrase served in the interest of conversational ease. Electra's eyes were on him, absorbed and earnest. There was nothing she believed in so much, at that moment, as the clarity of MacLeod's mind and heart. It seemed belittling him even to withdraw into the coverts of ordinary talk, and, if she wanted his testimony, to surprise it out of him by stale devices. She was worshiping the truth very hard, and there was no effort in putting her question crudely:—
"Mr. MacLeod, was your daughter married to my brother?"
He met her gaze with the assurance she had expected. It seemed noble to her. At last, Electra reflected with a throb of pride, she was on the heights in worthy company.
"Yes," he said, not hesitating, "she was his wife."
Electra drew a long breath.
"Then," she answered, "I shall know what to do."