Other times she had longed to send a letter in her name and Whinnie's, telling him how his gifts had lightened their life and kept them in peace and honesty at Whinnie Knowe; but the lawyers had discouraged the idea, and she had feared to press it.
What if this had all been a make-believe, and there had been no cousin... and it had been Drumsheugh who had done it all.... Was this the object of all his sacrifice... to keep a roof above their heads... and she had heard him miscalled for a miser and said nothing... how could she look him in the face... she was sure of it, although there was no proof.... A grey light had been gathering all the afternoon in her mind, and now the sun had risen, and everything was light.
Any moment he might come in, and she must know for certain; but it was Leezbeth that entered to lay the tea, looking harder than ever, and evidently seeing no call for this outbreak of hospitality.
“The maister's gaen upstairs tae clean him-sel,” said the housekeeper, with a suggestion of contempt. “A' saw naethin' wrang wi' him masel,” But Leezbeth was not one that could move Marget to anger at any time, and now she was waiting for the sight of Drumsheugh's face.
He came in twenty years younger than she had seen him in that dreary field, and, speaking to her as if she had been the Countess of Kil-spindie, asked her to pour out the tea.
“Drumsheugh,” and he started at the note of earnestness, “before a' sit doon at yir table there's ae question a' have tae ask an' ye maun answer. Ye may think me a forward wumman, an' ma question may seem like madness, but it's come intae ma mind, an a 'll hae nae rest till it 's settled.”
Marget's courage was near the failing, for it struck her how little she had to go on, and how wild was her idea; but it was too late to retreat, and she also saw the terror on his face.
Drumsheugh stood silent, his eyes fixed on her face, and his hand tightened on the back of a chair.
“Is't you—are ye the freend 'at hes helped ma man an' me through a' oor tribbles?”
Had he been prepared for the ordeal, or had she opened with a preface, he would have escaped somehow, but all his wiles were vain before Marget's eyes.