He couldn’t look at her.
“I know what I mean!” he said, doggedly. “I mean December. I understand.” The silence became so ominous that at length he had to steal a look at her. Her incredulous face was flushed red with shame and anger. He rose to defend his love from her.
“You aren’t to say a word against her. It wasn’t her fault!”
Then the storm broke.
“Do you think I’m likely to say a word against the poor, greetin’ bairn!” she cried. “Her sitting there alone among the wolves and snakes, and a son of mine to bring her to shame! I’ll never lift my head again!” Her rush of emotion quite choked her.
“My fine, brave soldier of a son!” she burst out, recovering herself. “You did well, now, to choose a lassie alone, with neither father nor mother to defend her from you!”
“Mother!” he cried.
“Jeannie’s wee Chirstie!” she went on. “No one else could please you, I suppose! Oh, she did well to die when her son was but a laddie!”
Wretchedly ashamed of his deceit as he was, he was not able to take more of her reproof without trying to defend himself.
“I didn’t mean any harm!” he mumbled. “I didn’t think.” That was what Peter had said.