“I want to kiss you, lass,” said Anne.
Dubby Stewart had for the second time that day the impression that women talked, so to speak, in hieroglyphics.... There seemed to be a kind of feminine shorthand to which only women held the key, and he did not understand the sudden softening of Ellie’s face nor her quick response. And he did not know why, when Anne kissed her, Effie said, “No, no,” nor why Anne said, “It isn’t no. It’s yes.” A kiss, it seemed, had various meanings.
Anne in effect had conveyed to Effie that she thanked her and, more, she honoured her. Effie denied that she merited honour and Anne maintained that she did.
“Aye,” said Anne, “he’s had two dips in the lucky-bag and he’s drawn a prize this time. It’s more than any man deserves, but we’ll not grudge it Sam, will we, Effie?” And to Dubby the thing took on a fresh aspect of bewilderment. If that meant anything, it meant that Anne was welcoming a daughter. Didn’t the woman know that Sam was married?
“I’ve grudged him nothing,” Effie said.
Anne meditated that, then looked at Effie with a touch of what was, for her, shyness. “You’ve grudged him nothing,” she disagreed, “except your pride in giving up. And you can do it, you can give up, but Sam’s nobbut a man, and they’re a weak flesh, men. He looks the shadow of himself,” she exaggerated resolutely.
“Does he?” said Effie anxiously, and Anne nodded a sombre face. “What do you want me to do, Mrs. Branstone?”
“I want you to give up giving up. Sam said a thing to me last night. He said you’d make him find salvation. Well, happen; but what’s certain sure is that you made him find love. He’s found it, lass, and he mustn’t lose it, and he will if you leave things where they are. He’s trying to do a thing that isn’t, possible. He’s trying to live aside of Ada, loving you. He’ll try to love her for the love of you, and kiss her, telling himself he’s kissing you, and it will not be you; and the love he tries to bring her will turn to loathing in his heart. And what’ll happen then, when love goes sour within him? Eh, lass, you took yon lad to heaven and you’re sending him to hell.”
It was not fair to Stewart. It was hardly bearable: he was not her brother and he hadn’t the feelings of a brother. He saw great happiness in Effie’s face, as if two happinesses mingled there, the one of giving up her dream, the other of awakening to a sweet reality. He saw her put out a hand towards Anne, surrendering, consenting, giving all in one swift, heady leap from cloud to earth, and then he saw her sway, and caught her in time to break her fall.
Anne eyed him sharply. “Have you heard of your sister’s fainting before, lately?” she asked, busy on her knees with Effie.