Mrs Ogilvy was much surprised, but would not believe her ears. She said mildly, “I have told you, Mr Lew: it is not for my son, but chiefly out of a great feeling I have for yourself, poor laddie, that have nobody to advise you or lead you in a better way.”
“You may preach if you like,” he said, with a laugh, “if you’re ready to pay; but no preaching without paying, old lady. Come, let’s look at it a little closer. Here are you rolling in money, and he there, your only son, sent out into the world——”
“Not Robbie,” she cried, with a gasp, “not Robbie! I said it was for you——”
“We do not mean to be parted, however,” he said. “You must double your allowance, mother, and then see how much you can add to that.”
She looked at her son, clasping her hands together, her face, amid the whiteness of her dress, whiter still, its only colour the eyes, so bright and trustful by nature, looking at him with a supreme but voiceless appeal. Whether it touched him or not, could not be seen: he stirred a little, but probably only as a relief from his attitude of stillness—and his face was too deep in the shade to betray any expression for good or for evil.
Then Mrs Ogilvy rose up trembling to her feet. She said, clasping her hands again as if to strengthen herself, “I have been very wishful to do all to please you—to treat you, Mr Lew, as if you were—what can I say?—not my own son, for he is but one—but like the son of my friend. But I have a duty—I am not my own woman, to do just what I please. I have a charge of my son before the Lord. I will give you this money to take you away, for this is not your place or your home, and you have nothing ado here. But my son: Robbie, all I have is yours—you can have it all when you like and how you like, my own boy. But not to go away with this man. If you will forsake your home, let it be well considered and at another time. To take you away with this man, fleeing before the pursuer, taking upon you a shame and a sin that is not yours—— No! I will not give you a penny of your father’s money and my savings for that. No, no!—all, when you will, in sobriety and judgment, but nothing now.”
Her smallness, her weakness, her trembling, were emphasised by the fact that she seemed to tower over Lew where he sat, and to stand like a rock between the two strong men.
“You’re a plucky old girl,” said her antagonist, with a laugh—“I always said so—game to the last: but we can’t stand jabbering all night, don’t you know. Business is business. You must fork out if you were the Queen, my fine old lady. Sit down, for there’s a good deal to say.”
“I can hear what you have to say as I am, if it is anything reasonable,” Mrs Ogilvy said. She felt, though she could scarcely keep that upright position by reason of agitation and fear, that she had an advantage over him as she stood.
He sprang to his feet before she knew what was going to happen, and with two heavy hands upon her shoulders replaced her in her chair. I will not say forced her back into it, though indeed that was how it was. She leaned back panting and astonished, and looked at him, but did not rise or subject herself to that violence again.