She contrasted the woman and Vivien as she had seen them together on the Glenogle road, and she conjured up the supreme contempt that would gather in Vivien's eyes were she pitted against her. She would absolutely disdain such humiliation. Isla felt sure that the man who would win Vivien Rosmead from her disillusionment, who aspired to heal her hurts, must have a clean record. How dared Malcolm, with what was behind and before him, aspire to her?
Isla wondered at the audacity of men. Yet her heart was also stirred with pity for him in that he must reap the bitter harvest of his folly and his sin. Her heart was passing weary, the burden had not been lightened with her father's death, but seemed to have waxed heavier. And she must get away. She felt herself a coward in view of what might come. She could not breast anew scandal in the Glen and she must get away. Such weakness and weariness crept over her that she could have laid her head down and slept for ever. She held on bravely with her preparations, however, and when they were finished she rang the bell for Margaret Maclaren.
"The dinner iss ready, Miss Isla. Am I to send it in?" asked that competent domestic with just a touch of aggressiveness in her mien and manner.
"I don't know where Mr. Malcolm is or when he will come back. But, yes--send it in if it will make you any happier, Margaret, and lift that dour cloud from your face," she added hastily. "I know I can trust you to keep something hot for Mr. Malcolm."
"Oh, as to that, it can be done. But I'm gettin' tired of it, Miss Isla. I nefer saw such a man, or such a hoose--beggin' your pardin for my plain speech. He takes less account of times and seasons than anybody I have ever seen or heard tell of. I don't know what he thinks happens in a kitchen, or whether he knows how food is made, but he expects it to be ready when he iss, whatefer the hour of the day. It iss not in my power, Miss Isla. I'm gettin' to be an old woman and not fit for my job."
"Nonsense, Margaret. You never were fitter, and you must warstle through with it a little longer anyhow, because I am going away to-morrow for some weeks, and you must simply look after Creagh till I come back."
"Where are you goin', Miss Isla? To her Ladyship, iss it? Well, it will do you good, and it iss there you ought to haf gone long since. I will stop, then, till you come back. And I hope the change will do you good, for it iss fery thin and white-like you are gettin', my dear, and it iss time something wass done. I will do my best for Maister Malcolm, and if it should pe that we fall out peyond making up while you are away I'll write and let ye know."
Isla had not expected sympathy from Margaret, who, between Diarmid and his master, was now kept in a state of continual agitation which had a very bad effect on a temper that was not placid at the best of times.
Isla thanked her, and, with a mind considerably eased, went down to eat her solitary meal. After dinner she busied herself writing a few notes of farewell--one of them to Kitty Drummond and one to Elspeth Maclure, regarding whom her conscience was troubling her not a little. But she afterwards tore up Elspeth's, deciding that if Jamie Forbes came to Creagh in good time she would make him stop at Darrach on the way down so that she might say good-bye in a proper manner.
The evening wore on--eight, nine, ten o'clock--and still no word of Malcolm. Isla looked out again and again, and once she even walked out to the gate to see whether the twinkling light of the bicycle lamp was visible down the long vista of the road. When it was half-past ten she went to bed, for she had walked many miles that day, and her packing exertions--to say nothing of the strain of things on her mind--had left her very tired.