“Why, yes; her eyes shone.”
“Well, I must speak to her,” said Sir James, still perplexed. “Come with me, Chris.”
Mr. Carleton was just leaving the parlour as they came up to its outside door. Sir James drew him into the yard. There were no secrets between these two.
“Father,” he said, “did you notice? Do you think Mistress Atherton will be able to stay here?”
He saw to his astonishment that the priest’s melancholy face, as the starlight fell on it, was smiling.
“Why, yes, Sir James. She is happy enough.”
“But my wife—”
“Sir James, I think Mistress Atherton may do her good. She—” he hesitated.
“Well?” said the old man.
“She—Lady Torridon has met her match,” said the chaplain, still smiling.