John Glenalvan and Elinor, his daughter, brought up the rear. Perhaps the old gentleman and his servant were as much astonished at seeing these followers as they were at the sight that met their eyes.
Old Dinah recovered her self-possession first of all, perhaps because she had vaguely suspected some such eclaircissement from the facts already in her possession.
She rushed forward and caught her disobedient nursling by the hand.
"Oh, my darlin', my honey, chile," she cried. "Come away from dat black-hearted wilyun to your grandpa and your ole brack mammy."
But to the consternation of everybody, the girl shook Dinah's hand off, and clung persistently to her lover.
He drew his arm protectingly around the slight figure, and Golden cried out with pretty, childish defiance:
"He loves me! he loves me! and I will not leave him."
That sight and those words fairly maddened Elinor Glenalvan. The blood seemed to boil in her veins.
"Loves you—ha! ha! loves you, the child of sin and shame!" she cried out, in a hoarse voice of bitter scorn and passion. "Oh, yes, he loves you. That is why he has lured you to your ruin, as a stranger did your mother before you."
"Hush, Elinor," said John Glenalvan, in his sternest tone; then he looked at his father, who had crept to Golden's side, and stood there trembling and speechless. "Father," he said, harshly, "take the girl away. I must speak with Mr. Chesleigh alone."