A vision of a lighted window came to her; she was looking in at the man she loved and his lips were pressing those of another woman. Then scenes and objects vague and indistinct passed before her eyes, big dark shadows mustered together in the centre of the roof above her, then other shadows from all sides rushed in and joined together, trembled and became blended in complete obscurity. Norah fell asleep.
“Poor lassie!” said Donal, throwing himself down on the floor by the fire, “poor lassie!”
“God have pity on her,” said the woman; “and her sic a comely lass!”
CHAPTER XXIII
COMPLICATIONS
I
ON the night of Norah’s arrival at the steading Alec Morrison slept well, but wakened with the dawn and sat up betimes. He was very pleased with himself and his position at the bank; things had gone well, his father had doubled his allowance, and on the strength of that the young man had become engaged.
He had broken with the little girl in Glasgow; for while admiring her good looks he deplored her lack of intelligence. She spent a great deal of her time in dressing herself, and Morrison knew that there would come a day when dresses would not please, when a husband would require something more worthy of respect, something more enduring than pretty looks and gaudy garments. Besides this drawback there was another. The girl, who took her good looks from her mother, long dead, had a grasping, greedy father whom nobody could love or admire. Morrison had met him twice and disliked him immensely. He was a dirty little man and generally had three days’ growth of hair on his chin. When shaking hands his thumb described a curious backward turn, forming into a loop like one of those on the letter S. The daughter had the same peculiarity. Before meeting the father this movement of the girl’s thumb amused Morrison; afterwards it disgusted him. Finally he took his departure and again got into tow with Ellen Keenans, the live woman with advanced views ten years ahead of her age. Morrison fell in love easily, indifferently almost. He was an attractive young man, well built and muscular, who cultivated the art of dress with considerable care. All good-looking women fascinated him, but none held him captive for very long. He had become engaged to the girl with the advanced ideas and took her to his people’s home. The old farmer liked her but did not understand many of the things of which she spoke. That was not to be wondered at, seeing that he was a plain, blunt man, although a gentleman farmer, and the girl was ten years ahead of her time.
II
ALEC Morrison, the sleep gone entirely from his eyes, his face a little red after shaving, came downstairs to the breakfast-room. Ellen Keenans was sitting on the sofa, a book in her hand.
“Up already, dear?” asked Morrison, and bent to kiss the girl. She laid down the book which she had been reading and met the kiss with her lips.