Part 13 (2/2)

”Well, Mrs. Macgregor, if we cannot serve you we will be going,” said Mrs. Fairbanks; ”but we would be glad to drive Mr. Macgregor to the station.”

She was anxious to justify her visit to herself and her friends.

”That's a first-rate idea,” cried Brown, ”that is, if you can give me a lift, too.”

”Of course,” cried Betty.

”Thank you, I shall be very glad,” said Shock, seeing it would please Mrs. Fairbanks.

”Come along, then,” said Betty. ”I suppose we have not too much time.”

”Good-bye, for the present,” said Mrs. Fairbanks, offering her hand to the old lady, who was standing erect, white but calm, facing the hour whose bitterness she had already tasted.

”Good-bye,” said Betty softly, kissing the white cheek, and trying to hurry her mother towards the door.

At this, Helen, who had been standing with face growing whiter and whiter, went to Mrs. Macgregor and put her arms around her and kissed her good-bye. When she was nearing the door she came hurriedly back.

”Oh, let me stay with you. I cannot bear to go,” she whispered.

The old lady turned and scrutinised steadily the young face turned so pleadingly toward her. Slowly under that steady gaze the red crept up into the white cheek, like the first dawning of day, till the whole face and neck were in a hot flame of colour. Yet the grey, l.u.s.trous eyes never wavered, but, unshrinking, answered the old lady's searching look. At that revealing wave of colour Shock's mother made as if to push the girl away from her, but, with a quick change of mood, she took her in her arms instead.

”Ay, poor la.s.sie, you too! Yes, yes, you may stay with me now.”

The motherly touch and tone and the knowledge that her secret had been read were more than Helen could bear. She clung to Mrs. Macgregor, sobbing pa.s.sionate sobs.

At this extraordinary outburst Mrs. Fairbanks came back into the room and stood with Shock and the others gazing in utter amazement upon this scene.

”Whist now, la.s.sie, whist now,” Mrs. Macgregor was saying, ”never you fear, he'll come back again.”

”What on earth is this nonsense, Helen?” Mrs. Fairbanks' voice was haughty and suspicious. ”What does this mean?”

”It means,” said Mrs. Macgregor with quiet dignity, ”what neither you nor I can help or harm.”

”Helen, speak to me.”

At the stern command Helen lifted her face, still hot with blushes, and stood looking straight into her mother's eyes. Her mother turned from her impatiently.

”Do you know what this means?” she said to Shock.

”What? I don't understand,” replied Shock, gazing helplessly at the haughty, angry face turned toward him.

”Have you dared to speak to my daughter?”

”Oh, mamma,” cried Helen, in an agony of mortification, ”how can you?”

”You may well be ashamed,” said Mrs. Fairbanks, who had quite lost control of herself, ”throwing yourself at the head of a man so far beneath you, with no prospects, and who does not even want you.”

”So far beneath, did you say?” cried Mrs. Macgregor quickly. ”Woman, say no more. You shame yourself, let alone your child.

Whist,”--checking the other's speech--”the blood in the veins of Hector Macgregor yonder” (pointing to the portrait of the Highland soldier on the wall) ”was as proud as that in any Lowland trader of you.”

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