May laughed and reddened, and then turned and climbed to the top of the rock to see if Hugh were in sight. Jean followed her slowly.
“I ought to be glad. I am glad. There is a great weight lifted from my heart. May is safe from the trouble that threatened, and so is my father. As for Willie Calderwood—well it is better for him too, that May doesna care, even if—And he’ll get over it.”
When Hugh came back they all took their way to Miss Jean’s house by the sea. But as Hugh was not yet equal to the feat of dismounting without more help than he was willing to accept from the young ladies, May and he soon turned their faces homeward again, and Jean, who had something to do in the town, was left behind. She sat a while with her aunt, but she was quite silent, and her face was turned toward the sea. Miss Jean was silent also, giving her a glance now and then, feeling sure that she had something more than usual on her mind which perhaps she might need a little help to tell.
“Well,” said she after a little, “have you any news? I think I see something in your e’en. Come awa’ frae the window and say what ye ha’e to say.”
Jean rose and came forward to the fire.
“Has my father been in? He will tell you himself, when there is really any thing to tell. He is sure to be in some time to-day.”
“And it is nothing to vex you, dear? Are you glad about it?”
“It ought not to vex me. It is only what was sure to happen. And though I am not glad yet—I dare say I shall be glad in time.”
“Is it about your sister?”
“Yes—and I think papa is glad. But he will tell you himself.”