She raised her large pale eyes to his with a strange look. Then her head sank low on her breast.
"Nothing!" she said at last.
"Nothing!" said he. "Nothing for nothing, then. I hope you didna pay him?"
"No, faither," she answered. "I hadna the bawbees."
"When did ye get back?" he asked.
"Just after—just after——" Her eyes flickered over to John, as if she were afraid of mentioning his name.
"Oh, just after this gentleman! But there's noathing strange in tha-at; you were always after him. You were born after him, and considered after him; he aye had the best o't.—I howp you are in good health?" he sneered, turning to his son. "It would never do for a man to break down at the outset o' a great career!... For ye are at the outset o' a great career; are ye na?"
His speech was as soft as the foot of a tiger, and sheathed as rending a cruelty. There was no escaping the crouching stealth of it. If he had leapt with a roar, John's drunken fury might have lashed itself to rage. But the younger and weaker man was fascinated and helpless before the creeping approach of so monstrous a wrath.
"Eh?" asked Gourlay softly, when John made no reply; "I'm saying you're at the outset o' a great career; are ye no? Eh?"
Soft as his "Eh" was in utterance, it was insinuating, pursuing; it had to be answered.