"Why did you not tell me then?"
"I wanted to let the cutty tak' her run, and to see how far she would go. I had my een on her."
"I feel sure he is living near her, in California."
"Very close, indeed, no doubt o' that—pitying and comforting her. Why don't you do your own pitying?" she asked scornfully.
"I am going to California to-morrow."
"Don't! You'll get yoursel' shot, or tarred and feathered, or maybe lynched. Those West Americans are an unbidable lot; they are a law to themselves, and a very bad law, generally speaking. Bide at hame, and save your life. What for will you go seeking sorrow?"
"I want my son. Isabel says he is a very prince among boys of his age."
"No doubt o' it. There's enough Campbell in him to set him head and shoulders over ordinary lads. But you send men now, that you know where to send them, and let them get the lad away. They'll either coax or carry him."
"I want to see Theodora."
"If you have a thimbleful o' sense, let her alone. Old love is a dangerous thing to touch. She'll gie you the heartache o' the world again, and you'll be down at her feet for comfort."