“You may be sure I shall do my best for the Colonel. Indeed, I do think Lord Keith will consent to the marriage now.”
“You have sacrificed yourself on that account?” he said, with irony in his tone, that he could have repented the next moment, so good-humoured was her reply, “That is understood, so give me the merit.”
“The merit of, for his sake, becoming a grandmother. You have thought of the daughters? Mrs. Comyn Menteith must be older than yourself.”
“Three years,” said Bessie, in his own tone of acceptance of startling facts, “and I shall have seven grandchildren in all, so you see you must respect me.”
“Do you know her sentiments?”
“I know what they will be when we have met. Never fear, Alick. If she were not married it might be serious, being so, I have no fears.”
Then came a silence, till a halt at the last station before Bath roused Alick again.
“Bessie,” he said, in the low voice the stoppage permitted, “don’t think me unkind. I believe you have waited on purpose to leave me no time for expostulation, and what I have said has sounded the more harsh in consequence.”
“No, Alick,” she said, “you are a kind brother in all but the constructions you put upon my doings. I think it would be better if there were more difference between our ages. You are a young guardian, over anxious, and often morbidly fanciful about me during your illness. I think we shall be happier together when you no longer feel yourself responsible.”
“The tables turned,” muttered Alick.