"And do what with her?"
"That's for you to say."
"Tell me about her.--everything you can or will. I must know how I stand, and where. It's not for nothing that an old woman of seventy-four rises and runs at a young man's bidding."
Neil nodded comprehendingly, and in his quickest and most graphic way he put her in possession of the facts.
"It's an unco story," she said, folding her slender hands with an unusual grip on the ebony stick. "It's not a story that Donald Mackinnon would have liked to bear in connexion with his one ewe lamb. I'm glad he's in Balquhidder," she said brusquely. "But the spunk of the lassie! There's grit there Neil Drummond! She'll fight--ay, and starve, but nobody shall know of it. That's the true spirit that has made Scotland great! It's in the women yet, Neil, but it's scarce, very scarce among the men."
Neil had no time for platitudes. His head was a whirl of plans.
"Does Isla know I'm coming?" asked the old lady then.
"Yes. She expects you to-morrow."
"Has she left herself in your hands, then, lad?" asked Lady Betty with a curious straight glance under which Neil reddened.
"So far. She's run down, body and spirit, Aunt Betty. I want you to realize that before you see her. She--she has lost grip. My God, to see Isla Mackinnon like that! It makes me itch to get with my two hands at Mackinnon's throat!"