His sister said nothing.
“She is the eldest, and the strongest in every way. If she were to give her mind to it, she might, in time, hold her own in the countryside with the best of them.”
He was silent for a minute.
“And she might many, and get help in that way. And her son would have the place. And he might take my name, which is an honest one at least.”
“Ye’re takin’ a lang look,” said Miss Jean at last.
He gave an uncertain laugh.
“Oh! weel! That’s atween you and me, ye ken. It might be. A lad like him that was here the day, for instance—a gentleman by birth and breeding. He is a poor man, as poverty looks to the like of him, a two or three hunder pounds or so a year. It would be wealth to most folk, but it’s poverty to the like o’ him. But if it should so happen—and I were to live another ten years—I might satisfy even the like o’ him.”
There was much which Miss Jean might have said to all this, which fell like the vainest folly on her ears, but she said nothing.
“And as for my Jean!—she needs to see the world and society, and all that, doubtless, but if there’s many o’ the fine London ladies that will hold a candle to her as far as looks go—it’s mair than I think. She might stand before the queen herself with any of them.”
And still Miss Jean said never a word.