“Your father will never consent,” she said, with an unsteady voice; “and my father will never allow it against his will. But, Lord Rintoul—”
“Not lord, nor Rintoul,” he said.
“You never liked to be called Robin,” Nora said, with a half malicious glance into his face. But poor Rintoul was not in the humour for jest. He took her hand, her arm, and drew it through his.
“I cannot wait to think about our fathers. I have such need of you, Nora. I have something to tell you that I can tell to no one in the world but you. I want my other self to help me. I want my wife, to whom I can speak—”
His arm was quivering with anxiety and emotion. Though Nora was bewildered, she did not hesitate—what girl would?—from the responsibility thus thrust upon her. To be so urgently wanted is the strongest claim that can be put forth upon any human creature. Instinctively she gave his arm a little pressure, supporting rather than supported, and said “Tell me,” turning upon him freely, without blush or faltering, the grave sweet face of sustaining love.
XXXIX
Rolls disappeared on the evening of the day on which he had that long consultation with Mr. Monypenny. He did not return to Dalrulzian that night. Marget, with many blushes and no small excitement, served the dinner, which Bauby might be said to have cooked with tears. If these salt drops were kept out of her sauces, she bedewed the white apron which she lifted constantly to her eyes. “Maister John in jyal! and oor Tammas gone after him; and what will I say to his mammaw?” Bauby cried. She seemed to fear that it might be supposed some want of care on her part which had led to this dreadful result. But even the sorrow of her soul did not interfere with her sense of what was due to her master’s guest. Beaufort’s dinner did not suffer, whatever else might. It was scrupulously cooked, and served with all the care of which Marget was capable; and when it was all over, and everything carefully put aside, the women sat down together in the kitchen, and had a good cry over the desolation of the house. The younger maids, perhaps, were not so deeply concerned on this point as Bauby, who was an old servant, and considered Dalrulzian as her home: but they were all more or less affected by the disgrace, as well as sorry for the young master, who had “nae pride,” and always a pleasant word for his attendants in whatever capacity. Their minds were greatly affected, too, by the absence of Rolls. Not a man in the house but the stranger gentleman! It was a state of affairs which alarmed and depressed them, and proved, above all other signs, that a great catastrophe had happened. Beaufort sent for the housekeeper after dinner to give her such information as he thought necessary; and Bauby was supported to the door by her subordinates, imploring her all the way to keep up her heart. “You’ll no’ let on to the strange gentleman.” “Ye’ll keep up a good face, and no’ let him see how sair cast down ye are,” they said, one at either hand. There was a great deal of struggling outside the door, and some stifled sounds of weeping, before it was opened, and Bauby appeared, pushed in by some invisible agency behind her, which closed the door promptly as soon as she was within. She was not the important person Beaufort had expected to see; but as she stood there, with her large white apron thrown over her arm, and her comely countenance, like a sky after rain, lighted up with a very wan and uncertain smile, putting the best face she could upon it, Beaufort’s sympathy overcame the inclination to laugh which he might have felt in other circumstances, at the sight of her sudden entrance and troubled clinging to the doorway. “Good evening,” he said, “Mrs.—” “They call me Bauby Rolls, at your service,” said Bauby, with a curtsey, and a suppressed sob. “Mrs. Rolls,” said Beaufort, “your master may not come home for a few days; he asked me to tell you not to be anxious; that he hoped to be back soon; that there was nothing to be alarmed about.” “Eh! and was he so kind as think upon me, and him in such trouble,” cried Bauby, giving way to her emotions. “But I’m no alarmt; no, no, why should I be?” she added, in a trembling voice. “He will be hame, no doubt, in a day or twa, as ye say, sir, and glad, glad we’ll a’ be. It’s not that we have any doubt—but oh! what will his mammaw say to me?” cried Bauby. After the tremulous momentary stand she had made, her tears flowed faster than ever. “There has no such thing happened among the Erskines since ever the name was kent in the countryside, and that’s maist from the beginning, as it’s written in Scripture.” “It’s all a mistake,” cried Beaufort. “That it is—that it is,” cried Bauby, drying her eyes. And then she added with another curtsey, “I hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction, sir, till the maister comes hame. Tammas—that’s the butler, Tammas Rolls, my brother, sir, if ye please—is no’ at hame tonight, and you wouldna like a lass aboot to valet ye; they’re all young but me. But if you would put out your cloes to brush, or anything that wants doing, outside your door, it shall a’ be weel attended to. I’m real sorry there’s no’ another man aboot the house: but a’ that women can do we’ll do, and with goodwill.” “You are very kind,
