Silence again fell, and the appearance of eating was resumed, Peter being the only one that made a reality of it. Marion was occupied with many thinkings, specially a growing doubt and soreness about Isy. The hussy had a secret! She had known something all the time, and had been taking advantage of her unsuspiciousness! It would be a fine thing for her, indeed, to get hold of the minister! but she would see him dead first! It was too bad of the Robertsons, whom she had known so long and trusted so much! They knew what they were doing when they passed their trash upon her! She began to distrust ministers! What right had they to pluck brands from the burning at the expense o’ dacent fowk! It was to do evil that good might come! She would say that to their faces! Thus she sat thinking and glooming.
A cry of misery came from the room above. Isy started to her feet. But Marion was up before her.
“Sit doon this minute,” she commanded.
Isy hesitated.
“Sit doon this moment, I tell ye!” repeated Marion imperiously. “Ye hae no business there! I’m gaein til ’im mysel!” And with the word she left the room.
Peter laid down his spoon, then half rose, staring bewildered, and followed his wife from the room.
“Oh my baby! my baby!” cried Isy, finding herself alone. “If only I had you to take my part! It was God gave you to me, or how could I love you so? And the mistress winna believe that even I had a bairnie! Noo she’ll be sayin I killt my bonny wee man! And yet, even for his sake, I never ance wisht ye hadna been born! And noo, whan the father o’ ’im’s ill, and cryin oot for me, they winna lat me near ’im!”
The last words left her lips in a wailing shriek.
Then first she saw that her master had re-entered. Wiping her eyes hurriedly, she turned to him with a pitiful, apologetic smile.
“Dinna be sair vext wi’ me, sir: I canna help bein glaid that I had him, and to tyne him has gien me an unco sair hert!”