“And not later than yesterday,” said Mrs. M’Clean. She slipped from the room to where Jeanie, surrounded by her girl friends, was waiting. At the pitying look on her mother’s face she sprang to her feet. “Mother, what’s happened to David?” she cried.
“Naught that we know of, lass, but he’s not come.”
Agnes pressed close and sought Jeanie’s hand. “He will come, Jeanie,” she whispered. The other girls looked at one another, one or two with a faintly significant smile. Agnes was quick to see them. “He will come,” she said with assurance; “something has happened to detain him a little. David was always one to keep his word.” She nodded her head decidedly at those who had smiled. “Don’t fret, Jean,” said one of the other girls.
“Fret? Why should I fret?” she asked, holding up her head. “I know that David is as true as steel, and if mishap has overtaken him, it is no fault of his. We can wait awhile, mother. Tell the company we will wait awhile.”
Mrs. M’Clean returned to the front room. The gossips were whispering together; most of the men had strolled out and were standing in knots outside, looking stern disapprobation, for a man to be behindhand on his wedding-day did not augur well. Time sped on. It would be an unprecedented thing if the wedding were not to take place before noon, and the waiting company watched the sun as it mounted high in the heavens, and still no David appeared.
“Puir lass,” sighed one good wife to another, “widdowed before she’s a wife.”
“Or worse, deserted at the very altar. She’ll not hold her head up after this; she’s a proud lass, is Jean M’Clean.”
In the back room Jean sat. She, too, was watching the sun climbing so surely and steadily toward the zenith. At the noontide hour she arose to her feet, her face white and drawn. “Leave me, friends,” she said. “There’ll be no wedding to-day. I am sorry to disappoint you. Leave me, please.”
They all filed out, casting compassionate looks upon her. Agnes alone refused to leave. “Oh, Jeanie dear,” she whispered, “out of evils sometimes comes a blessing. I have known it so. Don’t give up, dear heart.”
Jeanie turned from her and clasped her hands, then with groping steps strove to reach the door; at the threshold she stopped. “I can’t—I can’t face them all,” she cried. “Tell my mother.”