Fanshawe did not contradict her. He looked at Marjory gravely, with a certain anxiety in his glance. He thought, as was natural enough, and as men so often think in respect to a woman’s judgment, that she had been led away by her feelings. He made her a little warning sign with his head.
“If, as you tell me, her own mother did not believe this story, is it wonderful that I should hesitate?” he said. “I do not think it is a lie; but I fear she may have been deceived.”
“By Tom?” said Marjory. She was almost as indignant as the other. “If Isabell has been deceived, then Tom—my brother, has been a—— What can I say? Is there a word bad enough—vile enough?”
He was cowed between these two young women. He dared not say, as he might have said elsewhere, that men do not form the same harsh judgment of such deceptions. He made a gesture of deprecation, holding up his hands in entreaty.
“You are too hard upon me”, he said. “I did not mean to blame either side; but if this is so, why cannot these people—the witnesses—be produced?”
“Let me speak to him, Miss Heriot,” said Agnes. “Maybe the gentleman thinks it’s a’ my invention from beginning to end? and it’s me that must speak. I’ve been to seek them, Sir, a’ over Scotland, from one end to another. I’ve been directed here, and I’ve been directed there. I’ve gone after them night and day. I’ve written letters to them. I’ve sought out their friends. The little infant is three months auld, and all that time I’ve been on the road. I had left my place for Isabell’s sake; she didna tell me why, but since I’ve found it was for him, that it might not be said he had a near friend in service. All the little siller I had, I’ve spent seeking them; and, oh, I canna find them, I canna find them!” cried the girl, suddenly breaking down, and bursting into passionate weeping. “I’ve prayed the Lord on my knees, and He’ll no send them; and I cannot find them; and my bonnie Bell will die before I can clear her name!”
Her voice had risen loud and shrill in the height of her emotion, and now she sat down and covered her face, struggling with her sobs. It was not in Fanshawe’s heart to remain insensible to this outburst. He sat looking at her with a guilty face, as if he were the author of her distress.
“Can I do anything?” he said. “Is there any way of helping her to find them if they are to be found?”
But there was not in his tone the enthusiasm for the search which Marjory had expected to move him. The very sound of his voice chilled instead of invigorating her. While Agnes slowly recovered her composure, Marjory informed him in detail of the inquiries which had been made. These were very primitive, unskilful inquiries. The girl knowing of few means of procuring information except the simple one of going to ask for it, had wasted a great deal of time and much labour on a comparatively narrow round. She had indeed written to various people whom she believed to be Macgregor’s relations to ask information about him, but the idea that he and his wife might be reluctant witnesses, or adverse altogether to the establishment of the truth, had made her distrustful of letters.
“How could I tell that they would not get out o’ my way, if I sent them word I was coming?” she said. “How was I to ken that they werena enemies? And even if they were friends, they mightna like to take that trouble, or their maisters mightna like it. Few folk like to take trouble; and when you just send them a letter—Na, na, I went mysel. I would never trust to that.”