My heart sank within me and my face flushed with confusion.
I might have understood that what she said was merely the outpouring of an overpowering weakness which was mingling the mental pictures focussed on the young lady's mind;—but I failed to think anything but that she had a natural distaste for my presence and was not, even now, grateful for the assistance I had rendered.
With my head bowed, I walked to the door.
Mrs. Malmsbury,—for that was the elderly lady's name,—came to me. She had not heard, but she had surmised.
"Oh! Mr. Bremner,—if my dear Mary has said anything amiss to you, do not be offended, for she is hardly herself yet. Why!—she is only newly back from the dead."
She held out her hand to me and I took it gratefully. But as I walked over to my quarters and dressed myself, the feeling of resentment in my heart did not abate; and I vowed then to myself that I would think of Mary Grant no more; that I would avoid her when I could and keep strictly to my own, beloved, masculine, bachelor pursuits and to the pathway I had mapped out for myself.
CHAPTER XVII
Good Medicine
The Rev. William Auld was due to visit Golden Crescent that afternoon. I almost wearied for his coming, for he was entertaining and uplifting. He, somehow, had the happy knack of instilling fresh energy, fresh ambition, fresh hope, into every one with whom he came in contact.