"Yes, yes," said Isla, with a little sob in her voice. "To think that you feel like that, that--you understand everything! Now, I’m so very glad that you have Achree."
Her hardness had melted and the desperate hunted look had gone from her eyes. Once more she was alert, full of affairs, thinking of all there was to do and ready for all emergencies.
As she drove down Glenogle beside the smart groom on the front seat of the dogcart her face did not once lose its uplifted look.
Her eyes swam in tears as Vivien and she swept through the familiar gates of Achree.
"Tell me, dear Mrs. Rodney Payne, was it your mother her own self, who thought of this--this beautiful thing?"
"No, my dear," answered Vivien quietly, "it was my brother. He is like that. He thinks always of the thing that will make most people happy and of how to do it in the happiest way."
"I thought he was like that when he was up at Creagh with me to-day," said Isla simply. "What it must be to have a brother like that--a brother who thinks of others first!"
But she paused there, and it was as if she rebuked herself.
Peter Rosmead, from the window of his dressing-room, where he was getting ready for dinner, was thunderstruck by the vision of Isla Mackinnon driving up to the door.
"Bravo, Vivien!" he said to himself, and his pulses quickened as he made haste with his black tie, achieving a bow less pleasing than usual to his fastidious taste.
He had reached the bottom of the stair when his sister and Isla came in by the hall door; and, seeing him for the first time in evening dress, Isla was immediately struck by his air of distinction.
"I have come to see your mother, Mr. Rosmead," she said simply. "I can’t say any more. Your sister must explain and say all that is necessary for me. Where shall I find your mother?"
It was Peter who took her to the door of his mother’s room, nay, who entered it with her. Isla herself saw no significance in that simple and natural act, but Peter, who intended it to be significant, felt a high courage, an indefinable joy at his heart.
"Mother, this is Miss Mackinnon. Vivien has been so fortunate as to get her to come down."
Isla stood still just inside the door, looking wistfully--even questioningly at the small elegant figure on the couch, at the beautiful, softly-coloured face framed by its white hair, and her eyes had a yearning look.