While he was wondering how he could best introduce the conversation he
desired, Mary broke the silence by a sudden question. "Cousin Allan, where
were you this spring? I have often wanted to ask you."
"Why did you not ask me? I wish you had, I should like to have talked on
that subject. I was in the Fife fishing district."
"Oh!"
"Why do you feel curious, Mary?"
"I have always thought there was something singular about that journey.
What took you to Fife? I never heard you speak of Fife before."
"It was an accident. My hat blew off, a Fife fisherman got it for me. I
liked the man, and went back to Fife with him."
"Accidents open the door to Fate. Now then, what singular thing happened
to you in Fife?"
"Nothing unusual happened. Is this my catechism or yours, Mary?"
"We can divide it. It is your turn to question."
"Do you know why I left home?"
"You had a 'difference' with Uncle John."
"What about?"
"Money, I dare say. I feel sure you were very extravagant while you were
abroad."
"It was not about money."
"About going into business then? You ought to do something, Allan. It is a
shame for you to be so lazy."
"It was not about business. It was about you."
"Me!"
"My dear Mary, for what I am going to say, I beg your pardon in advance,
for I feel keenly the position in which I must appear before you. You know
that the welfare of Drumloch has been my father's object by day, and his
dream by night. He cannot bear to think of a stranger or a strange name in
its old rooms. Long ago, when we were little children, our marriage was
planned, and when the place was clear, and you had grown to a beautiful
womanhood, and I had completed my education, father longed to see us in
Drumloch. There were points we could not agree upon. He was angry, I was
obstinate--Mary, I know not how to tell you; how to ask you--"
"Allan, my dear brother Allan, spare yourself and me any more words." She
looked up with clear, candid eyes, and laid her hand upon his. "Uncle is
not unjust in his expectations. His outlay, his cares, his labor, have
saved Drumloch to the family. It is as much his purchase as if he had
bought every acre at public roup. And he has been a second father to me;
kind, generous, thoughtful. It is hard enough for him that his plans must
fail; it would be cruel indeed if he were parted from a son he loves so
tenderly as he loves you, Allan. Let me bear the blame. Let it be my fault
his hopes cannot be realized."