“And then,” said Randal, “she sent to beg me to help her, to keep him away from her. I managed it that time; and this morning she sent to me again. She must have seen her mistake very soon, Sir Ludovic, and what it has cost her. But I hope it is all over now.”
“And you came down here, ane’s errand, as we say in Scotland, for nothing but to relieve her mind? How did you mean to do it? What was the business you were so anxious to tell him about? I thought it was a strange business that you were so anxious to talk over with Rob Glen.”
“It was very simple,” said Randal, coloring high under this examination. “He is a clever fellow; he can write and draw, and has a great deal of talent. I wanted to send him off on a piece of work that had been offered to me—”
“To relieve her?”
“Because I thought he could do it—and for other reasons.”
“I understand.” Sir Ludovic went on in silence for some time while Randal’s heart beat quick in his breast. He had said nothing to betray himself, and yet he felt himself betrayed.
After a while, Sir Ludovic turned and laid his hand kindly, but gravely, on Randal’s shoulder.
“Tell me the simple truth,” he said; “has it ever been breathed between you that you should succeed to the vacant place?”
“Never!” cried Randal, indignantly; “nor is there any vacant place,” he added. “Glen took advantage of a child’s ignorance. She thought him kind to her. She was grateful to him, no more; and he took advantage of it. There is no vacant place.”
“I see,” said Sir Ludovic; then, after a pause: “Randal, you will act a man’s part, and a friend’s, if you will leave her to come to herself, with Jean to look after her. Jean may be ‘a lang-tongued wife,’” he said, not able to repress a smile, “but she’s a good woman in her way. She will take good care of our little sister. What is she but a child still? You will act an honorable part if you leave her to the women: leave her to be quiet and come to herself.”