The Little Minister

“Mr. Dishart cannot be back, Jean,” she said, “before morning, and I don’t want his mother to see me till he comes.”

“I wouldna let you near her the nicht though you gaed on your knees to me. But whaur is he?”

Babbie explained why Gavin had set off for the Spittal; but Jean shook her head incredulously, saying, “I canna believe you’re that grand leddy, and yet ilka time I look at you I could near believe it.”

In another minute Jean had something else to think of, for there came a loud rap upon the front door.

“It’s Tammas Whamond back again,” she moaned; “and if the mistress hears, she’ll tell me to let him in.”

“You shall open to me,” cried a hoarse voice.

“That’s no Tammas’ word,” Jean said in bewilderment.

“It is Lord Rintoul,” Babbie whispered.

“What? Then it’s truth you telled me.”

The knocking continued; a door upstairs opened, and Margaret spoke over the banisters.

“Have you gone to bed, Jean? Some one is knocking 336 at the door, and a minute ago I thought I heard a carriage stop close by. Perhaps the farmer has driven Mr. Dishart home.”

“I’m putting on my things, ma’am,” Jean answered; then whispered to Babbie, “What’s to be done?”

“He won’t go away,” Babbie answered. “You will have to let him into the parlor, Jean. Can she see the door from up there?”

“No; but though he was in the parlor?”

“I shall go to him there.”

“Make haste, Jean,” Margaret called. “If it is any persons wanting shelter, we must give it them on such a night.”

“A minute, ma’am,” Jean answered. To Babbie she whispered, “What shall I say to her?”

“I – I don’t know,” answered Babbie ruefully. “Think of something, Jean. But open the door now. Stop, let me into the parlor first.”

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.

Chapter Forty-One.

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 fire, “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 – ”