"The organist ought to select the music, not Dora Campbell."
"Allow me to finish. She chose 'I know that my Redeemer liveth.'"
He ceased speaking and took his place at the dinner table. "Order dinner, Isabel," he added, in a quiet voice.
Mrs. Campbell was speechless. She was stunned by anger and amazement. Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears—a most extraordinary exhibition of feeling in her. Isabel with a piteous look directed his attention to her mother, and he said:
"Take your chair, mother. I want my dinner. I have had a hard day. The men at the works are quarrelling and going to strike. I did not require extra quarrelling at home."
"I cannot eat, Robert. I will not eat again in this house. I can laugh at insults from strangers, but when my son connives with his English wife to deceive me and make me humble myself before her, it is time I went away—I don't care where to."
"You have your own house at Saltcoats."
"It is rented."
Robert made no remark and the dinner went silently on. Just as it was finished the doctor asked for Robert, and he left the room to see him. "Your wife has fallen asleep," he said, "and, Campbell, you must see to it that she is not awakened for anything less than a fire or an earthquake." A short conversation followed, and after it Robert went directly to the library.
Greatly to his astonishment, his mother followed him there. He laid aside his cigar, and placed a chair for her. She had now assumed the only temper likely to influence him, and he was prepared to be amenable to her plea before she made it.