“Let me go home with you,” said Lady Carse. “I will go home with you; and—”
Mrs Ruthven exchanged a glance with her husband, and then said, in an embarrassed way, while giving a hand to each of the two children who were clinging to her, that their house was very small, extremely small indeed, with too little room for the children, and none whatever left over.
“It is my house,” exclaimed Lady Carse, impatiently. “It was built with a view to you; but it was done under my orders, and I have a claim upon it. And what ails the children?” she cried, in a tone which made the younger cry aloud. “What are they afraid of?”
“I don’t know, I am sure,” said their mother, helping them, however, to hide their faces in her gown. “But—”
Again Annie rose and said, “There could be no difficulty about a place for the lady if she would be pleased to do as she did before—live in her cottage. The two dwellings might almost be called one, and if the lady would go home with her—”
Gratitude was showered on Annie from all the parties. As the lady moved slowly towards the widow’s house, holding Annie’s arm, and weeping as she went, and followed by the Ruthvens, the eyes of all the Macdonalds gazed after her, in a sort of doubt whether she were a witch, or a ghost, or really and truly a woman.
As soon as Macdonald’s sloop could be discerned on its approach the next day, Mr Ruthven went down, and paced the shore while daylight lasted, though assured that the vessel would not come up till night. As soon as a signal could be made in the morning for the yawl, he passed to the sloop, where he had a conference with Macdonald, the consequence of which was, that as soon as he was set ashore the sloop again stood out to sea.
Mrs Ruthven and Lady Carse saw this, as they stood hand in hand at the door of the new dwelling. They kissed each other at the sight. They had already kissed each other very often, for they called themselves dear and intimate friends who had now one great common object in life—to avenge Lady Carse’s wrongs.
“Well, what news?” they both cried, as Mr Ruthven came towards them, panting from the haste with which he had ascended.
“The tenant is gone back,” said he, “he has returned to Sir Alexander to contradict his last news—of your being drowned. By-the-way, I promised to contradict it, too—to the man who is watching for the body every tide.”