"And are you going to alter Jean's share too, so that this precious Vernon fellow may have something to squander?"

"Something respectable to live on," corrected his parent. "You mustn't starve art, you know."

Andrew stared at him in silence, and when he spoke, it was with the air of a much-wronged worm which has deliberately resolved to turn at last.

"I'm not wanting any of your Ellen Berstouns. If she's played this trick on me, that's enough of her. But I tell you plainly I'm not going to let you rob me to keep a pack of worthless painters and people out of the gutter, without taking some steps. I warn you of that."

"My dear Andrew," said his father reproachfully, "that's hardly the att.i.tude of a professing Christian. Just think, now; is it? You'll easily find a decent, quiet woman with a bit of money and no objection to hearing every day for an hour or two how you've been worried by your clients and swindled by your father, and I do honestly believe you'll get as near happiness as you're capable of. That's common sense, now; isn't it?"

The slamming of the door answered him.

"What a sulky fellow he is!" said Heriot to himself.

Yet so conscious was he of the rect.i.tude of his intentions, and so confiding had his disposition grown, that it never crossed his mind to beware of an infuriated lawyer. Besides, when Andrew had slept over it, he would surely realize how unanswerable were his father's arguments.

"We'll see the old stick-in-the-mud dancing at Frank's wedding!"

thought he. "There's no vice in Andrew; only a bit of obstinacy.

It's all bark and no bite with him."

With these amiable reflections he speedily consoled himself for the discomfort of any little temporary friction. And then the door opened gently.

CHAPTER IV

"I heard you had come back again," said Mrs. Dunbar.

She closed the door as gently as she had opened it. The action pathetically expressed the quiet sorrow of a much-wronged woman's heart.

"Yes," said Heriot gallantly, "I'm back again to Scotland, home and beauty. Ha, ha! Now that was quite pretty, wasn't it?"

But her black eyes declined to sparkle, as she glided silently to a chair. Out of the corner of his own eye her lover looked at her critically.

"I'm delighted to see you again, Madge," he went on; but his words had a hollow ring, and his eye continued to express more doubt than pa.s.sion.

"Have you no apology to offer me?" she inquired, with the same ominous calm.

"For what, my dear lady?"

She started a little and glanced at him apprehensively. "My dear lady"

hardly indicated love's divinest frenzy.

"For treating me shamefully!"

"This is strong language," he smiled indulgently. "Tell me now, I say, just tell me what I've done."

Thus invited, the lady described his conduct in leaving her alone and unprotected in a London hotel, to the neglect of his affectionate a.s.surances and the shame and confusion of herself, in language which did no more than justice to the theme.

"But I left Jean to look after you," he protested.

"When I want your daughter to look after me I shall ask you for her a.s.sistance," she replied tartly. "You broke your word to me, and you can't deny it."

"I do deny it," he replied, with dignity. "I told you I should travel north--"

"Oh!" she interrupted, with scathing contempt, "you were very straightforward and gentlemanly, I know!"

He looked at her ever more critically. A recollection of Ellen and the pine-wood returned forcibly.

"Put it as you will," he replied philosophically, and turned towards the fire.

She watched him jealously.

"But why did you run away?" she persisted. "Where have you been since?

Heriot, I insist upon knowing that--I insist!"

She rose and came towards him. He took her hand and pressed it gently.

"I shall tell you all," he said, as he led her back to her chair and drew another towards it. When they were about three feet apart he sat down himself and bent confidentially towards her. Yet he did not attempt to bridge entirely the intervening s.p.a.ce.

"I have been up to Perthshire," he began, "a.s.sisting dear Ellen Berstoun to break off her engagement with Andrew."

Mrs. Dunbar sat up with a much more alert expression.

"I am glad to hear it," she said, with decision.

"I discovered that Frank and she loved one another. I am very glad to say he is now engaged to her instead."

She smiled at last.

"Do tell me what Andrew said!"

He shook his head.

"I'm afraid he is somewhat unreasonably annoyed."

She smiled more brightly still.

"How very good for him! Really, Heriot, you have done a very sensible thing indeed."

Heriot smiled back.

"It seemed to me," said he, "that there was really too much disparity in years. The young should marry the young, Madge."

"I agree with you entirely."

It was his smile that now seemed to indicate an increasing satisfaction.