"Ye wadna surely
tak her frae me a' at ance!" pleaded Mrs Mair. "Ye micht lat her
bide--jist till Phemy comes hame; an' syne--" But there she
broke down; and the tempest of sobs that followed quite overcame
the heart of Mrs Findlay. She was, in truth, a woman like another;
only being of the crustacean order, she had not yet swallowed her
skeleton, as all of us have to do more or less, sooner or later,
the idea of that scaffolding being that it should be out of sight.
With the best commonplaces at her command she sought to comfort
her companion; walked with her to the foot of the red path; found
her much more to her mind than Mrs Catanach: seemed inclined to
go with her all the way, but suddenly stopped, bade her goodnight,
and left her.
CHAPTER LXIII: MISS HORN AND LORD LOSSIE
Notwithstanding the quarrel, Mrs Catanach did not return without
having gained something; she had learned that Miss Horn had been
foiled in what she had no doubt was an attempt to obtain proof
that Malcolm was not the son of Mrs Stewart. The discovery was a
grateful one; for who could have told but there might be something
in existence to connect him with another origin than she and Mrs
Stewart would assign him?
The next day the marquis returned. Almost his first word was the
desire that Malcolm should be sent to him. But nobody knew more
than that he was missing; whereupon he sent for Duncan. The old
man explained his boy's absence, and as soon as he was dismissed,
took his way to the town, and called upon Miss Horn.
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