"I have thought of that. When Margaret refused to accept the arrangement Drayton had made for her, I heard from Stevens, and have been in correspondence with him ever since. I think he might bring her here; there are a great many things to arrange."
"But if we go to Inchbrae, brother, might she not come there, direct?"
"Yes, you may go there and receive her. I must see Stevens here;" and then he continued in a strange tone, "if you wish me to follow you I will go there."
"If I wish it?"
"You do not know, Anne. You know nothing," he exclaimed, with something of his old very peremptory manner.
She was startled and vexed. Why did he go on like this? why constantly talk as if she had yet much to learn?
"One thing more," he said, in a less excited tone, "I do not want every idiot in the place to gossip, and talk, and wonder; go and see the few neighbours with whom you have made acquaintance and speak of going home, and of receiving Margaret naturally. If you leave suddenly no one knows what may be said."
"And about you, brother?"
"About me? who cares?" he said; "my act in the play is nearly over. What does it all matter to me? But you can say I am ill—that is the truth, I am ill."
"If you are ill, I will not leave you."