The two women stole into the parlor.
“Tell me what will be the result o’ his
coming here,” entreated Jean.
“The result,” Babbie said firmly, “will
be that he shall go away and leave me here.”
Margaret heard Jean open the front door and speak
to some person or persons whom she showed, into the
parlor.
Rintoul and Babbie—breakdown
of the defence of the manse.
“You dare to look me in the face!”
They were Rintoul’s words. Yet Babbie had
only ventured to look up because he was so long in
speaking. His voice was low but harsh, like a
wheel on which the brake is pressed sharply.
“It seems to be more than the man is capable
of,” he added sourly.
“Do you think,” Babbie exclaimed, taking
fare, “that he is afraid of you?”
“So it seems; but I will drag him into the light,
wherever he is skulking.”
Lord Rintoul strode to the door, and the brake was
off his tongue already.
“Go,” said Babbie coldly, “and shout
and stamp through the house; you may succeed in frightening
the women, who are the only persons in it.”
“Where is he?”
“He has gone to the Spittal to see you.”
“He knew I was on the hill.”
“He lost me in the darkness, and thought you
had run away with me in your trap.”
“Ha! So he is off to the Spittal to ask
me to give you back to him.”
“To compel you,” corrected Babbie.
“Pooh!” said the earl nervously, “that
was but mummery on the hill.”
“It was a marriage.”
“With gypsies for witnesses. Their word
would count for less than nothing. Babbie, I
am still in time to save you.”
“I don’t want to be saved. The marriage
had witnesses no court could discredit.”
“What witnesses?”
“Mr. McKenzie and yourself.”
She heard his teeth meet. When next she looked
at him, there were tears in his eyes as well as in
her own. It was perhaps the first time these
two had, ever been in close sympathy. Both were
grieving for Rintoul.
“I am so sorry,” Babbie began in a broken
voice; then stopped, because they seemed such feeble
words.
“If you are sorry,” the earl answered
eagerly, “it is not yet too late. McKenzie
and I saw nothing. Come away with me, Babbie,
if only in pity for yourself.”
“Ah, but I don’t pity myself.”
“Because this man has blinded you.”
“No, he has made me see.”
“This mummery on the hill—”
“Why do you call it so? I believe God approved
of that marriage, as He could never have countenanced
yours and mine.”
“God! I never heard the word on your lips
before.”
“I know that.”
“It is his teaching, doubtless?”
