The Elder looked at her with eyes full of tears.
"Madame," he said, "they have fined me in my auld age for a misdemeanor"—and then he laughed hysterically. "I hae lived fifty years in New York, and I am fined—I hae——"
She stopped the quavering voice with a kiss, and with Neil's help led him gently to her carriage; and as soon as he reached its friendly shelter he closed his eyes and looked like one dead. Madame was in a tempest of rage. "It is just like the ravening wolves," she said. "They saw an opportunity to rob you,—you need not tell me, I know Matthews! He has the winter's routs and dances for his luxurious wife and daughters to provide for, as well as what he calls his own 'damned good dinners.' How much did he mulct you in? Never mind telling me now, Neil, but come and lunch with me to-morrow; I shall have something to say to you then."
She had the Elder's hand in her's as she spoke, and she did not loosen her clasp until she saw him safely at his own home and in the care of his wife. She remained a few moments to comfort Madame Semple, then, divining they would be best alone with their sorrow, she went away with a reminder to Neil that she wished to speak to him privately on the following day.
"It is as if God sent her," said Madame gratefully.
"Get me to my bed, Janet, dearie," said the Elder. "I'll just awa' out o' this warld o' sorrows and wrongs and robbery."
"You'll just stop havering and talking nonsense, Alexander. Are you going to die and leave me my lane for a bit o' siller? I'm ashamed o' you. Twa or three hundred pounds! Is that what you count your life worth? Help your father to his bed, Neil, and I'll bring him some gude mutton broth. He's hungry and faint and out o' his sleep—it tak's little to make men talk o' dying. Parfect nonsense!"
"You don't know, Janet Semple——"
"Yes, I do know, Alexander. Quit whining, and put a stout heart to a steep hill. You hae a wife and sons and friends yet about you, and you talk o' dying! I'll not hear tell o' such things, not I!"
But when the Elder had taken a good meal and fallen asleep, Janet spoke with less spirit to her son. And Neil was in a still fury; he found it difficult to answer his mother's questions.