“What are your intentions toward her?” demanded Gilbert earnestly. “Do ye intend to marry her, or are ye but triflin’ idly wi’ her affections?”
Robert turned on him quickly. “Triflin’?” he repeated indignantly. “Nay, Gilbert, ye wrong me deeply.”
“Forgive me, but ye ken Mary is not like other lassies to think lightly o’,” said Gilbert, his eye searching his brother’s face keenly.
“Heaven forbid,” ejaculated Robert in a low, tense voice.
“I canna’ understand your conduct o’ late,” continued Gilbert earnestly. “I fear your stay in Mauchline is responsible for the great change in ye, for ye are not the same lad ye were when ye left hame. I fear ye have sadly departed from those strict rules of virtue and moderation ye were taught by your parents, Robert.”
“What mean ye, Gilbert?” inquired Robert, startled.
“Ah, Rob,” responded Gilbert, shaking his head sadly, “I ken mair than ye think; reports travel e’en in the country.”
The thought that his wild escapades were known to his narrow-minded though upright brother, and perhaps to others, filled Robert with sudden shame. “Weel, Gilbert,” he replied, trying to speak lightly, “Ye ken that I have been fallin’ in love and out again wi’ a’ the lassies ever since I was fifteen, but nae thought of evil ever entered my mind, ye ken that weel.”
“Aye, I ken that,” answered Gilbert quickly, “until ye went to Mauchline. And noo ye have come back a changed lad, your vows to Mary forgotten. If I thought ye would try to wrong her——” he stopped abruptly, for Robert had faced him, white and trembling, his eyes flashing indignantly.
“Stop, Gilbert!” he commanded, intensely calm. “Mary Campbell’s purity is as sacred to me as an angel’s in heaven. I would sooner cut my tongue out by the roots than to willingly say aught to cause her a moment’s misery or sorrow. Ye cruelly misjudge me, Gilbert.” He turned away, feeling hurt and angry that he should be so misunderstood by his brother, and yet was he misjudging him, was he not indeed causing her much sorrow? he asked himself bitterly.