‘That’ll depend on what kind of lady she is,’ observed Barclay; ‘she may be too proud.’
‘Then Whanland ’ll no tak’ her,’ replied Granny decisively.
It did not escape Mrs. Stirk that Barclay, who had never before paid her a visit unconnected with business, had now some special motive for doing so. It was in her mind to state the fact baldly and gratify herself with the sight of the result, but she decided to keep this pleasure until she had discovered something more of his object. She sat silent, waiting for his next observation. She had known human nature intimately all her life, and much of it had been spent in driving bargains. She was not going to speak first.
‘Well, every man ought to marry,’ said Barclay at last; ‘don’t you think so, Mrs. Stirk?’
‘Whiles it’s so easy done,’ said she; ‘ye havna managed it yersel’, Mr. Barclay.’
‘Nobody would have me, you see,’ said the lawyer, chuckling in the manner of one who makes so preposterous a joke that he must needs laugh at it himself.
‘Ye’ll just hae to bide as ye are,’ observed Granny consolingly; ‘maybe it would be ill to change at your time of life.’
Barclay’s laugh died away; he seemed to be no nearer his goal than when he sat down, and Granny’s generalities were not congenial to him. He plunged into his subject.
‘I think Mr. Speid should marry, at any rate,’ he said; ‘and if report says true, it will not be long before he does so.’
A gleam came into the old woman’s eye; she could not imagine her visitor’s motives, but she saw what he wanted, and determined instantly that he should not get it. Like many others, she had heard the report that Gilbert Speid was paying his addresses to Lady Eliza Lamont’s adopted niece, and, in her secret soul, had made up her mind that Cecilia was not good enough for him. All femininity, in her eyes, shared that shortcoming.