‘But I am not likely to be here,’ he said, quietly. ‘I have many things on my hands. I am here to-day, and gone to-morrow. Poor thing! she is alone; her own friends are unlike her now. You saw her standing there——’
‘You have made a lady of her,’ said Miss Catherine, with a half-congratulation, half-reproach.
‘I have made her——’ he said, and paused. ‘No, I have made her nothing; nought of it is my doing. It is another than I that must bear the blame.’
‘Then there is blame to be borne?’ said Miss Catherine. ‘John Diarmid, I know nothing about your history since you’ve been away; but if you’ve been unkind to that poor lass, after making her marry you——’
‘My kinswoman,’ he said, with a faint touch of scorn not distinct enough to be called a sneer, ‘what I have done to her is of little consequence. It is God Who has been unkind to her. Don’t start as if I spoke blasphemy. She can see but one way of working——’
‘Then I suppose,’ said Miss Catherine, vehemently, ‘you’ve given up the trade of prophet for yourself? I thought as much—and left her, poor weak thing! to bear the burden. And what is your way of working now?’
‘You have no right to speak to me so,’ said Mr. John. ‘I have given up no trade; but I see it is by nations and peoples, and not by single men, that the reformation of the world is to be accomplished. Why should I explain my views to you? You would not understand me. What I wish is that you would protect her as a woman and my kinswoman might, when I am not here to do it.’
‘And why should you not be here to do your duty yourself, John Diarmid?’ said Miss Catherine. ‘You have done her all the honour a man can do a woman, and it’s your place to stand by her now.’
‘Honour!’ he said, and uttered an impatient, weary sigh. ‘It might have been better for her had she never come to such honour.’ Isabel, who had been listening eagerly, though she had not spoken, heard the exclamation which was muttered between his teeth, and in her hasty heart rebelling against Miss Catherine’s coldness, felt it was time for her to interfere.
‘Mr. John,’ she said, ‘I am not just Isabel, as when you knew me—but Mrs. Lothian. I will go to Ailie, and—take care of her, as much as I can, while you are away.’