'Dame, come and comfort me. Pray, take that food away! Let me lay my head on thy kind old breast. Thou'rt a mother to me, Marjory—always wert. Dame, I've no dear mother!'
The dame took her darling in her arms, and rocked her gently to and fro, with the toil-hardened old hand stroking the girl's silken hair, and her grave old face laid against it.
'No; thou hast no mother, poor lamb; worse for thee.'
'It's hard to know right from wrong, Marjory; but I am quick to decide, and once decided, never falter. I try to do all for the best.'
'I know it, I know it. But child, my Lady Deb, have no dealin's with that old man Master Sinclair. He's a demon.'
'Hush! or give the demon his due, Marjory. He has been kind to my brother Charlie.'
'For what? We all know it; all Enderby knows what he's after.'
'That is no concern of Enderby's. I hate this gossip. Look you, dame, if I choose to wed fifty such, it is no concern of Enderby's. If I did wed Master Sinclair, it would be of mine own free will: let all the world know that!'
'But thou'lt never wed him, dearie!' cried the old nurse, in tremulous breathless haste.
'I do not answer you Yes or No; but I am my own mistress.'