“That will do, Hope,” said her mother, fearful that the interdicted name might fall from Hope’s gay lips again; “but I think you might show us those drawings of yours that you used to write so much about:—you can arrange your visits to-morrow.”
“But I want to go into Fendie to-night, mother,” urged Hope, “to see—”
“We cannot part with you to-night, Hope,” said Mrs Oswald; “and now go and bring your drawings and let your father see them.”
Hope obeyed. Mr Oswald began to walk about the room, almost inclined to be angry with his daughter; this pertinacious attachment to the one person in Fendie whom he tabooed, and the constant recurrence of her name, annoyed him greatly; and the banker had a consciousness that his wife and his son William were much more likely to submit, so far as external action went, to his stern will, than was the much privileged girl-daughter, who appeared fully as much inclined to sway him as he was to sway her, and did it as effectually. The grave and painful constraint with which William curbed a will as strong as his father’s, raised in the banker’s mind an angry feeling of antagonism; but the frank resistance of Hope was much less easily managed. Mr Oswald began to feel an involuntary “drither” as to his success in this part of the contest—a dubious consciousness that Hope might be too many for him.
The exhibition of drawings did not succeed. Hope perceived that there was something wrong, and with eager girlish curiosity could not rest till she had fathomed it. William was strangely grave and taciturn, she thought; she seized the earliest opportunity of questioning him.
By the dining-room fireside, the brother and sister sat in the twilight alone. Hope took advantage of the propitious moment.
“William, is there anything the matter?”
William stirred the fire thoughtfully and sighed. The light threw a gleam upon his face, and made it look very grey and grim, as his sister thought. Hope was not inclined to wait for his tardy answer; she plunged into the middle of the questio vexata.
“William, I want to know about Helen Buchanan.”
William started.