Dear Christine,
I want you to tell Mother that I married Miss Rath in Paris on the fifth of September ult. We were afraid that Reginald was going to interfere, so we settled the matter to prevent quarreling—which, you know, is against my 204 nature. Reginald’s opposition was quite unlooked for and, I must say, very ill-natured and discouraging. If there is anything in a man’s life he should have full liberty and sympathy in, it is his marriage. I dare say Mother will have some complaint or other to make. You must talk to her, until she sees things reasonably. We were married in the Protestant Episcopal Church in Paris, very quietly—only the necessary witnesses—and came on here at once. I disapproved so highly of Reginald’s behavior at this important period of my life, and of some insulting things he said to me, that I have resolved not to have any more relations with him. After all I have done for him, it is most disheartening. My wife feels her brother’s conduct very much, but she has perfect trust in me. Of course, if I had been married in Scotland, I would have had my friends’ presence, but I am quite sure that my best interests demanded an immediate marriage. We shall be home in a month, and then I propose to open a law office in Glasgow in my own name. I shall do better without impedimenta like Reginald Rath. I trust to you to make all comfortable at home. I shall desire to bring my wife to see my mother. I am proud of Roberta. She is stylish, and has a good deal more money than I expected. I shall not require Reginald’s money or patronage, they would now be offensive to my sense of honor and freedom. Give my love to my father and mother, and remember I am
Always your loving brother,
Neil.
There was a few moments’ dead silence, and Christine did not lift her eyes from the paper in her hand, until a passionate exclamation from Margot demanded her notice.
“Oh, Mither, Mither!” she cried, “dinna mak’ yoursel’ sick; it’s Neil, our Neil, that you are calling a scoundrel.”
“And I’ll call a scoundrel by no ither name. It’s gude enough for him.”
“We were talking one hour ago about him marrying Miss Rath, and you took to the idea then. Now that he has done so, what for are you railing at him?”
“I’m not railing at him for marrying the lass, she’s doubtless better than he deserves. It’s the way that he’s done the business—the mean, blackguardly way he’s done the business, that shames and angers me. Dod! I would strike him on the face, if he was near my hand. I’m shamed o’ him! He’s a black disgrace to his father and mother, and to all the kind he came from.”
“Generally speaking, Mother, folks would say that Neil had done weel to himsel’ and praise him for it.”
“Who are you alluding to? Dinna call the name ‘Neil’ in my hearing. Scoundrel is gude enough to specify a scoundrel. I hae counts against him, and he must clear himself, before I’ll pass his christened name o’er my lips.”
“What are your counts against him? Maybe I can speak a word to explain them.”