“Go awa’?” she repeated fearfully. “Nay, nay, laddie, ye mustna! I fear for ye in your present state o’ mind.”
“I must, mother,” he answered wildly. “I willna sit on the cutty stool to be made the laughing stock o’ the whole neighborhood, to bring shame on ye all.” He walked restlessly up and down the room as he continued feverishly, “I willna stay here to skulk from covert to covert under all the terrors of a jail, for I ken that in a little while the merciless pack of the law will be baying at my heels like bloodhounds.” He turned to her suddenly, “Mother, I mean to leave Scotland, perhaps forever.”
“Oh, nay, nay, my bairn; I canna, I willna, let ye go,” answered his mother, clinging to him passionately.
“There, there, mither, dinna make it harder for me.” He put his arm around her tenderly and pressed her to him for a moment. “Noo, mother,” he said quietly, “will ye pack my chest? I have nae time to spare,” and he led her gently to the door.
“Where will ye be goin’?” inquired Gilbert.
“To the Indies, to Jamaica,” replied Robert quickly. “Ye ken Dr. Douglas has a place for me there as overseer of his plantation. He has offered it to me mony times.” He turned in nervous haste to his mother, who stood in the doorway anxiously watching him. “Hurry, mither, please, I am in torture o’ mind.”
“Very well, laddie,” she answered sorrowfully. “God will direct your footsteps aright,” and she closed the door behind her and quickly made her way to his chamber.
“Will ye see Mary before ye go, Robert?” asked Gilbert.
He felt an infinite pity for his brother, who was leaving behind him everything he held dear.