What a change was in that face? The peach-colour was gone from her
cheek; it was pale and thin. Her eyes were hollow, with dark
shadows under them, the shadows of a sad sunset. A foreboding of
the truth arose in his heart, and the tears rushed up into his eyes.
The next moment the eidolon of Mary St. John, moving gracious and
strong, clothed in worship and the dignity which is its own defence,
appeared beside that of Jessie Hewson, her bowed head shaken with
sobs, and her weak limbs urged to ungraceful flight. As if walking
in the vision of an eternal truth, he went straight to Captain
Forsyth's door.
'I want to speak to Miss St. John, Isie,' said Robert.
'She'll be doon in a minit.'
'But isna yer mistress i' the drawin'-room?--I dinna want to see
her.'
'Ow, weel,' said the girl, who was almost fresh from the country,
'jist rin up the stair, an' chap at the door o' her room.'
With the simplicity of a child, for what a girl told him to do must
be right, Robert sped up the stair, his heart going like a
fire-engine. He had never approached Mary's room from this side,
but instinct or something else led him straight to her door. He
knocked.
'Come in,' she said, never doubting it was the maid, and Robert
entered.
She was brushing her hair by the light of a chamber candle. Robert
was seized with awe, and his limbs trembled. He could have kneeled
before her--not to beg forgiveness, he did not think of that--but to
worship, as a man may worship a woman.
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