"No," she said, "I will not obey my father, Aunt Mary. I am no child to be put in the corner. I am a woman, and know what I want."
Yet it was only during the past night watches that she had known it for certain. But yesterday her desire to see Allan Syme had been no more than a little ache deep down in her heart. Now it had become all her life. So fertile a soil wherein to grow love is injudicious opposition.
"But at any rate you will take your breakfast?"
"To please you I will try, aunt!"
Aunt Mary plucked up heart at once. This was better. She had made a beginning. The rest would follow.
When she went downstairs her brother came out of his study to get the key of his daughter's room. She told him how that Elspeth had never gone to bed, and had barely picked at her breakfast.
Dr. Stuart made no remark. He turned and went into his study again to work at his sermon. He too thought that all went well. He held that belief which causes so much misery in the world, that woman's will must always bend before man's.
So it does—provided the man is the right man.
* * * * *
On the third day of her confinement Elspeth Stuart wrote a letter. It began without ceremony, and ended without signature: