‘I cannot speak about it,’ answered Cecilia, rising, her face set; ‘there is no use in asking me. I was forced to do it. God knows I have no heart left. Oh, Granny! if he could but come back! In two months I shall be married.’
The Queen of the Cadgers stood silent; there was so much more in the matter than she had suspected; Cecilia might be a fool, but she was not the cold-hearted flirt whom she had pictured torturing Gilbert for her own entertainment.
‘It’s ill work mendin’ ae man’s breeks when yer hairt’s in anither ane’s pocket,’ she said.
Though mirth was far, indeed, from her, Cecilia could not help smiling at this crusty cutting from the loaf of wisdom.
‘Ah! ye may lauch now,’ exclaimed Granny solemnly, ‘but what ’ll ye do when he comes hame, an’ you married? Ye’ll need to mind yersel’ then.’
Neither of the women knew on how appropriate a spot the warning was offered, as they stood within a few feet of Clementina Speid’s empty place upon the wall.
‘I shall be gone,’ answered Cecilia. ‘I pray that I may never see his face again.’
‘Wad ye tak’ him, syne he was hame?’
‘Do you mean if he were to come now?’ asked Cecilia.
‘Ay.’