"Don't, Neil," she said, lifting a deprecating hand. "It has got to be done, so there isn't any use of talking about it."
"But, Isla!" he groaned, "it can't be done. Why, it will kill the General! Does he know what is in contemplation?"
"I have tried to tell him, but he can't understand," said Isla pitifully.
"He'll understand quickly enough when it comes to the bit--when you take him away from the old house. Why, it's the house he was born in, and he can't leave it now when he is old and frail. It's worth any sacrifice to let him have his last days in peace."
"It is; but I have made all the sacrifices possible, and have reached the end of my tether. If somebody could awaken the sense of sacrifice in Malcolm it would be different."
"Malcolm will be furious! Have you written and asked him, for after all he's the heir, you know, and a step--a big, drastic, horrible step like letting a property--can't be, or at least ought not to be, taken without consulting the heir."
Isla smiled drearily as she dropped into a chair.
Her old friend's anger was quite understandable and natural; but, oh, if people only knew how futile it all was!
"Listen, Neil. I thought of telling you the other day when we went to Glasgow together, but it was too new and raw then. Of course, that was the business I had to see Cattanach about. It is Malcolm who has caused this--who has wrought the red ruin of Achree."
Drummond was silent before the poignancy of her tone. Nor could he say that he was altogether astonished, since he knew Malcolm Mackinnon, and was fully aware of part at least of his unspeakable folly and misdoing.