THERE was no letter from Sheila in the morning; and Lavender, as soon as the post had come and gone, went up to Ingram’s room and woke him. “I am sorry to disturb you, Ingram,” he said, “but I am going to Lewis. I shall catch the train to Glasgow at ten.”
“And what do you want to go to Lewis for?” said Ingram, starting up. “Do you think Sheila would go straight back to her own people with all this humiliation upon her? And supposing she is not there, how do you propose to meet old Mackenzie?”
“I am not afraid of meeting any man,” said Lavender. “I want to know where Sheila is. And if I see Mackenzie I can only tell him frankly everything that has happened. He is not likely to say anything of me half as bad as what I think of myself.”
“Now listen,” said Ingram, sitting up in bed, with his brown beard and grayish hair in a considerably disheveled condition. “Sheila may have gone home, but it isn’t likely. If she has not, your taking the story up there and spreading it abroad would prepare a great deal of pain for her when she might come back at some future time. But suppose you want to make sure that she has not gone to her father’s house. She could not have got down to Glasgow sooner than this morning by last night’s train, you know. It is to-morrow morning, not this morning, that the Stornoway steamer starts; and she would be certain to go direct to it at the Glasgow Broomielaw and go around the Mull of Cantyre, instead of catching it up at Oban, because she knows the people in the boat, and she and Mairi would be among friends. If you really want to know whether she has gone North, perhaps you could do no better than run down to Glasgow to-day, and have a look at the boat that starts to-morrow morning. I would go with you myself, but I can’t escape the office to day.”
Lavender agreed to do this, and was about to go. But before he bade his friend good-bye he lingered for a second or two in a hesitating way, and then he said: “Ingram, you were speaking the other night of your going up to Borva. If you should go—”
“Of course I shan’t go,” said the other, promptly. “How could I face Mackenzie when he began to ask me about Sheila? No, I cannot go to Borva while this affair remains in its present condition; and, indeed, Lavender, I mean to stop in London till I see you out of your trouble somehow.”
“You are heaping coals of fire on my head.”
“Oh, don’t look at it that way. If I can be of any help to you, I shall expect, this time, to have a return for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I will tell you when we get to know something of Sheila’s intentions.”