But then it had always been in her thought that these two must never come together in this way, because of her dead Elsie, and because of the hard old man’s angry scorn, which, though she had forgiven him, she could not forget. She could not change easily. It was not her nature. And she could not bear that her Marion’s heart should be disturbed from its maiden peace. She moved about the room uncertain what she ought to say or do, and utterly impatient of her own hesitation. When she sat down again George came and stood before her.
“Mrs Calderwood, my father gave me God speed, and bade me bring her home.”
“Oh! your father,” cried Mrs Calderwood with sudden anger. “Your father has ay gotten his ain will for good or for ill, all his life long. And now to think—”
“His last words were—‘She shall be to me as my own daughter.’”
Mrs Calderwood turned her face away.
“He loves her dearly,” said George softly.
Still she did not speak.
“And, mother,—turn your face to me,—I love her dearly.”
She turned then, and at the sight of his moved face her eyes overflowed with tears.
“Oh! George! you are very dear to me, but my Marion is all I have—”