“Say something, Matty,” whispered Verna, shaking her sister, “for your own sake don’t be quite a wretch—say something! Ask her to stay.”
“We have come to no resolution,” said Mr. Charles blankly. He could not look round to make an appeal to the new mistress of the house, but he raised his voice in his weakness that she might hear him. “We have come to no resolution. I’m very fond of my old tower, and so is Marjory of her father’s house.”
“Say something, Matty, for heaven’s sake,” again said Verna behind backs. “It is a large house—ask them to stay.”
“I am sure,” said Matilda after a pause, “I don’t wish anyone to hurry. If Marjory will promise not to interfere with the servants, or the things—or give orders, or ring the bell for Fleming when she pleases—she may stay if she likes. Only I know dear Charlie would have wished me to be mistress in my own house.”
Mr. Charles had sprung nervously to his feet. “Not another day!” he said hastily; but then sat down again with that blank irresolute air. Where was he to take her? and then the responsibility, and his old tower that he loved!
“You’re a very considerate young woman,” said Miss Jean grimly, with a fierce little chuckling laugh. “You’ll be much respectit in the county, and much thought of by the Heriots’ auld friends. That I’ll assure you of—indeed I’ll see to it myself.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Matilda, with a certain alarm, for it was evident even to her obtuse understanding that more was meant than met the ear.
“I’ll see to that myself,” the old woman repeated with a chuckle. “And in the meantime, Marjory, go you and get your things, and bring the bairn, and come away home with me. Comlie High Street is no amiss for a born and bred Heriot; everybody in Fife knows you, and what you are, and how you come there, which is more than can be said for everybody. Come away, my bonny woman; and as for you, Chairlie Heriot, you can do what you please; stay on till they turn you out, or till you’ve gathered up all your playthings, your pictures and your papers, and the whole paraphernalia. But in the meantime I’ll no see my flesh and blood putting up with the slights of a strange woman. Marjory and the bairn shall come with me.”
Mr. Charles was wounded in his tenderest feelings, but still he saw a certain consolation and relief in this suddenly propounded plan, which would save him from so many difficulties.
“I would not say but it was the best thing that could be done,” he said, slowly. “Anyhow, May, my dear, it would leave us time to think.”