“Do ye mean ye have legally married this lass?” asked Gilbert eagerly. Mary would be free then, he thought wildly. Free to be wooed and won.
“We were married a few weeks ago,” answered Robert dully. “I had not the courage to tell ye before.”
“Besides,” interposed Jean, arranging her disordered toilet, “I wished to keep the marriage from my father for a—a time.” She blushed crimson.
“I willna believe my son ever married ye of his own free will,” cried Mrs. Burns bitterly, “fine rich lady that ye are. He loves only that sweet lass, Mary Campbell.” Quickly she reached Mary’s side, and, raising the stricken child in her motherly arms, she kissed her tenderly and pressed the golden head gently against her loving heart.
Jean looked at them, a look of resentment in her flashing eyes. “I know that full well,” she answered sullenly. “I know Robert hasn’t married me because he wanted to, but because——” she looked down shame-faced. “Because there was no alternative. Now you know the truth,” she concluded bitterly.
“Ye shameless creature!” cried Mrs. Burns, her eyes blazing with indignation. “Ye have trapped him into this marriage, but ye shall na stay beneath this roof, ye limmer,” and she glared at the flushed defiant girl in righteous anger.
“Mither, mither!” cried Robert distractedly, “dinna, for God’s sake; she is my wife in truth, an’ she must stay wi’ me noo till I can prepare anither hame for her. Dinna make it harder for me.” He gazed pleadingly in his mother’s stern and angry face.
Mary pressed her lips to the quivering cheek. “Mistress Burns,” she said softly, “what is to be, will be. I forgive them both wi’ all my heart.” She paused and sighed with gentle resignation. Then she continued, “An’—an’ I hope they will both find peace in their new life.” She turned quietly to Jean, who was nervously tapping her whip against her skirt. “I ken ye’ll make Robert a good wife,” she said earnestly. “So dinna let any thought o’ me sadden your heart, or—or yours, Robert.” She turned and looked at him tenderly. “I—I forgive ye,” she whispered. Turning to Mrs. Burns again, she continued pleadingly, “Ye must welcome Robert’s wife to her new hame, Mistress Burns. We all maun make this a merry hame-comin’ for—the—bride.” Her plaintive voice broke abruptly, and the burning tears welled up to her eyes, but she dashed them quickly away and continued bravely, a pathetic little smile hovering about her trembling lips, “I’ll go out noo an’ make some fresh tea for ye, and ye’ll all stay right here, till I come back, an’ Donald shall play for ye again—an’ we’ll—all—be—sae merry—won’t w-we? I’ll bring it w-when—it’s quite—ready.” She smiled at them through her tears. Then she took the teapot from the dresser and softly left the room.
“God bless her brave and noble heart,” breathed Robert brokenly.