“I hope nothing’s wrong, Miss Mary, at the house?” he said hurriedly.
“Well,” she said, “that is as may be. I have perhaps done a bold thing, but I was wanting a word with ye, Glendochart, before you go on.”
“What is the matter?” he cried with alarm. He was evidently very unwilling to be detained. “Your father is expecting me, Miss Mary,” he said, “and I hope your sister----”
“It is just about Kirsteen, Glendochart, that I wish to speak to you.”
“What is it?” he said. “Is she ill?--has anything happened?”
“There has just this happened,” said Mary. “I would not let ye have a trouble or a shock that I could spare you--Kirsteen has left her home.”
“Left her home!” His ruddy colour disappeared in a moment; he threw himself off his horse. “What do you mean? I do not understand you!” he cried.
“Glendochart,” said Mary seriously, “nobody has told me; but I don’t think you were meaning to make any secret of it, that it was after Kirsteen you were coming to our house.”
The elderly lover coloured a little. “I would not hide it from you that that was my intention. It was her,” he said with a little apologetic wave of his hand, “that I saw first of the family, and upon her I fixed my fancy; not that all the daughters of Drumcarro were not worthy of every admiration.”
“Oh, Glendochart, ye need not apologize. Fancy is free, as is well known. I saw it well from the first, for a sister’s eyne are quick to observe; but, if ye will believe me, the one that never noticed was just Kirsteen herself.”
“Not possible!” said the wooer, with this time a little flush of offence.
“But it is just very possible--her mind was not set on anything of the kind. And it was her opinion that just friendship and kindness--for all the family----”
“No, no--she said nothing, poor thing. If she had but spoken either to me, that could have explained for her, or to you that would never have forced her----”
“Forced her!” cried the old beau, who had always prided himself upon the fact that his was neither the form nor the eye,
“Well, I know that!” said Mary with fervour; “and there are few that would have needed any fleeching, if I may say so. But I reckon that she just heard it from my father, very suddenly. My father is a dour man, Glendochart. Whatever ye may have to say he will never hear ye speak. He will listen to the boys--whiles--but to us never. Just you must do this, or you must do that, and not a word more.”