‘But why did she not marry him at the beginning?’
‘I askit her that. “Granny,” says she, “a’ canna tell ye; a’ couldna help mysel’. There’s things a’ canna speak o’. A’ wish a’ was dead,” she says.—An’ there’s Whanland that doesna ken it!’ continued the old woman. ‘Sir, we’ll need to get him hame afore it’s ower late.’
Somerville was silent, feeling as though he were being invited to plunge into a torrent. He was certain that every word Granny said was true, for, though he had only seen Cecilia once since the news of her engagement was public, that once had been enough to show him that she was wretched. Some miserable tragedy was certainly brewing.
‘Suppose Mr. Speid has forgotten her?’ he hazarded.
‘Him forget?’ cried Granny, rising with a movement which made her earrings swing. ‘By Jarvit, Captain, a’ didna think ye was sic a fule!’
‘Perhaps I’m not,’ said he, rather nettled; ‘but what made you come to me?’
‘Was a’ to gang to the Laird o’ Fullarton that’s uncle to yon red-faced loon? Was a’ to gang to yon tod Barclay that’s aye wi’ him an’ that doesna like the Laird—a’ ken fine he doesna. Was a’ to gang to they twa auld maidies i’ the Close that doesna understand naething? Not me!’ said Granny, tossing her earrings again.
Captain Somerville put his hand on the back of his neck and ran it up over the top of his head till his nose got in the way; his hair looked like a field of oats after a rain-shower. Things did seem bad.
‘Ye’ll need to write him—that’s what ye’ll need to do. Tell him if he doesna come hame, it’ll be ower late,’ continued Granny.
‘But he may not want to come, Mrs. Stirk—he may have changed his mind. Remember, it is more than a year and a half since he left.’