“My relations are not low. They would scorn to do the low, cruel, wicked things some people who call themselves ‘high born’ do all the time. But low or high, they are mine, and while Archie is away, I intend to see them as often as I can.”
This little bit of rebellion was the one thing in which she could show herself Mistress of Braelands; for she knew that she could rely on Thomas to bring the carriage to her order. So the next morning she went very early to call on Griselda Kilgour. Griselda had not seen her niece for some time, and she was shocked at the change in her appearance, indeed, she could hardly refrain the exclamations of pity and fear that flew to her lips.
“Send the carriage to the Queens Arms,” she said, “and stay with me all day, Sophy, my dear.”
“Very well, Aunt, I am tired enough. Let me lie down on the sofa, and take off my bonnet and cloak. My clothes are just a weight and a weariness.”
“Aren’t you well, dearie?”
“I must be sick someway, I think. I can’t sleep, and I can’t eat; and I am that weak I haven’t the strength or spirit to say a word back to Madame, however ill her words are to me.”
“I heard that Braelands had gone away?”
“Aye, for two months.”
“With the Glamis crowd?”
“Yes.”