The old baronet gripped his stick as he went along and planted it firmly on the road. She would have given anything to have questioned him; but fear on the one hand lest she should exasperate him, on the other a failing heart lest if he were inclined to conciliation she might balk the impulse by some well-meant blunder kept her silent.
When they reached the office, and her grandfather asked the clerk if Mr. Standish was at home, she tried to judge his mood by the tone of his voice. For an instant she hoped the clerk's answer would be in the negative; but the young man, leaving his desk, replied that Mr. Standish was at home, adding with an air of bewilderment: "Sir Malcolm Loftdale, I believe?"
"Take my card up," said the baronet, pulling out his cardcase.
They climbed up the narrow stairs, and Meg saw her lover standing by his table to receive them. With a bow as cold, Mr. Standish returned the old gentleman's frigid salutation. He was stretching out his hand to her, but with a little anxious frown she signaled to him to take no notice of her at present.
"You are, I believe, sir, the responsible editor of the Greywolds Mercury," said the baronet with a chill civility that brought a sorrowful anticipation to Meg.
Mr. Standish in a constrained voice acknowledged his position. "I am afraid that this places me in an unfavorable light before you, sir," he continued in a half-apologetic tone.
Sir Malcolm moved his hand. "You mistake the object of my visit if you think, sir, that I ask for an explanation—if you suppose that articles upon myself which appeared some months ago, and which no doubt had literary merit, have produced upon me the slightest impression. I am ready to admit the right of every man to his opinions. I have my own opinions on a subject which I would prefer not to express."
He paused, and Mr. Standish remained silent, waiting for his visitor to continue.
"My motive for entering a publishing office," the baronet went on, looking round him with a cold smile, "is from a widely different motive. I will refer to one of those articles only for the simple sake of illustration. You were very indignant, sir, at my stringent suppression of a poacher. Now, sir, I beg you in justice to give me your opinion of a poacher in a moral sense—one who, by assignations, by means at his command, contrives to inveigle the affections of a young girl, almost a child, intruding himself thus dishonestly into a gentleman's family."