“This then is what is wanted of you,” said Mr. Charles hastily. “To prove this; not to go away, as you thought, and hold your tongues, and dishonour a woman, and wrong a bairn; what you’ve got to do is to prove this. Hold your tongue, woman—”
“Eh, Mr. Heriot!” cried the irrepressible Jean, “I’ve heard of the Heriots that they were kind; but, oh, what a blessed family to uphaud the marriage and right the lass! And it’ll be something to our John’s advantage,” she added insinuatingly, “just the same? for though it’s hard to haud your tongue it’s sometimes just as hard to speak out and say a’ the truth; and if we were to get ourselves into trouble in our new place—”
“Make your wife hold her tongue, John!” said Mr. Charles. “You can go to the kitchen, both of you, and get something to eat; and then I’ll take you out to see the young woman—I’m meaning Mrs. Tom Heriot, my nephew’s wife; and we’ll settle this business—as it is not a pleasant business—once for all.”
“We’re to go and see—Isabell?” asked Mrs. Macgregor, faltering.
“I said Mrs. Tom Heriot, my nephew’s wife.”
“Come, Jean, haud your tongue; the gentleman wants none of your clavers!” said John, giving a vigorous tug to her shawl.
But Jean lingered; she took a few steps towards the door, and then turned back.
“Ye’ll no say naething to Isabell of what we were speaking o’—nor of the proposition to gang to Canada and hold our peace. Oh, Sir, you’ll no say anything?”
“It was your proposition, Mrs. Macgregor, not mine!” said Mr. Charles.
“Aweel, aweel, Sir, what does it maitter? How was I to know you were such a good gentleman? Eh, so few as is like you! but you’ll no say anything? It was a’ from a good motive—for my ain bairns’ sake, and to keep dissension out of a family, and to pleasure you—”