“That is always the hardest thing to do.”
“Eh, woman,” said Mrs. Brown, “if ye had been a woman like the women in the books! There’s such arises from time to time—that does her duty to the man’s bairns and puts her feelin’s in her pocket, if she doesna like them; though how it was possible no to like them is mair than I can tell. She should have been up and tellt him, when there was suspicion thrown upon that lad, that it wasna true. If they had threepit it till they were black in the face, she would have said she didna believe a word. She would have cried out, ‘Look at the lad,’ (a more sullen, hangdog countenance than Archie’s at this moment could scarcely have been conceived) ‘and hear his ain saying aboon a’ the world!’”
There was a little stir at the window, and a harsh voice broke out suddenly where Archie stood: “That’s just what she did,” he said.
“If it had been me,” cried Jane, inspired with her theme, and noting no interruption, “though I’m nae pattern, I would have cried out, ‘Oh, get away from me, ye ill-thinking man! will ye daur to say there’s a lie in that laddie’s bonny broo! I’m no his parent, like you (I would have said), but a woman with e’en in my head, and I ken the truth when I see it. My word for his! (I would have cried) yon’s the truth and a’ the rest is lies!’ Woman! oh woman! I’m no a pattern; I’m no a grand and bonny leddy like you; but that’s what I would have done—plain Jane Brown, standing here before ye—if it had been me!”
Jane plumped down into a seat at the end of this tirade, and burst, as was natural, into hot torrents of tears, to which she gave vent freely, rocking herself to and fro with the primitive usage of passion. Evelyn had not said a word. She had followed the wild eloquence of the other with a tremulous smile and tears in her eyes. She did not even look at Archie, to remind him. He, for his part, had not known how to contain himself while the scene went on. He caught at his aunt’s arm, which she used in the free gesture of her class to emphasize her words, and at her dress: but it was not till Mrs. Brown’s sobs began to grow less that the lad spoke.
“Aunt Jane,” he said, “it is you at the end that has put all the clouds away. We’ve been slanderers, and evil speakers, you and me. We have just done our utmost, and all failed. We have wanted to lay the blame of it on her, and to think that it was her doing. But you’ve cleared up all that Aunt Jane,” he said, with a quick touch of his hand upon her shoulder, “everything you said you would have done, she did. Do you hear me?—all you said, she said. She has just done that and more. My father, if he were here, would tell you. You’ve shown me the truth anyway, whether you will see it yourself or not. She has done all that—and more!”
Archie turned away and made a round of the room like a blind man, and then he went up to Evelyn on the other side. “I humbly beg your pardon with all my heart and soul,” he said. “I’ll maybe never enter my father’s doors. I’ll maybe never come to anything as long as I live. And what you have come to tell me is just like Hebrew and Greek to me, and I’m not caring what it is; but she’s cleared my eyes, and I just beg your pardon with all my heart and soul.”
“Hush, Archie, hush,” said Mrs. Rowland, giving him her hand (which he shook awkwardly and dropped, poor boy, having no graceful suggestions in him, not knowing what to do with a lady’s hand in such circumstances, as Eddy did); “there is no pardon needed: and Mrs. Brown, shake hands with me, for we understand each other fully, and I agree in every word you say. If James did not do so, it was perhaps because he was a man, as you say, and wanted proof; and because, also, oh believe it, Archie! you are dearer to your father than to any one, and to doubt you is more than he can bear.”
“There is somebody at the door,” cried Mrs. Brown, hastily drying her tears; “and we are all begritten, and will do nothing but expose ourselves. I’m no quick enough to follow a’ you’ve said. And I canna tell what I’ve said to put ye baith in such a commotion; nothing but what was very simple, for I’m not a person of edication, like you. But if Archie’s pleased, I’m pleased: and you’re a bonny woman, Mrs. Rowland, and I canna resist ye. If ye’ll take it, I’ll gi’e ye my hand. And Archie, lad, go out to the door, and see that no strange person is let in here.”
Archie opened the door, and fell back with a cry of astonishment, and Rowland came in, looking round him upon all the signs of emotion which still were very apparent, with wondering eyes. He tried to veil his surprise in the sternness of aspect which was natural to a man whom all the persons present had bitterly offended. He was among a company, indeed, of offenders; all of them had sinned against him; and, perhaps, in present circumstances, his wife the most of all. He was still utterly perplexed as to the cause of her flight to London: and what connection there could be between that and her presence here, it was impossible to divine. He looked round upon them sternly, trying to suppress other sentiments. It was very strange to Evelyn to meet, for the first time in their life together, a look of disapproval in her husband’s eyes. After the first shock and surprise of his appearance, she had sunk again into her chair, holding out her hand: but he made no response, either to the smile or to the stretched-out hand.