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In a minute more Robbie's insensible form was wrapped round and round. "Give him room to breathe," said Mattha; "I declare ye're playing at pund-o'-mair-weight with the lad!" he added as Rotha came up with a sheepskin and a shawl. "The night is cold, and he has all but three miles to ride yet!" said the girl.
A man was conversing with him; he had white stockings and a moleskin waistcoat, and was as ill-looking a rogue as you would want to see in a day's journey. Thence I made my way to Mr. Robbie's, where I rang the bell. A servant answered the summons, and told me the lawyer was engaged, as I had half expected. 'Wha shall I say was callin'? she pursued; and when I had told her 'Mr.
I'll bring my gun, and we'll have a shot at the geese." Robbie's face brightened up at the prospect, and I went indoors to fetch the gun and a supply of ammunition; also my climbing ropes, in case we needed them. We were soon in the boat. Robbie took the oars and rowed out until we could hoist the little sail, and then we rounded the Ness and got out into Hoy Sound.
She was a bright, pert young thing, with just that dash of freedom in her manners which usually comes of the pursuit of her public calling; and it is only fair to Robbie's modesty to say that he had not deceived himself very grossly in his estimate of the interest he had suddenly excited in her eyes.
'Shall I walk and meet you sometimes before you get to Robbie's Leigh! His face cleared up, but the cloud returned in a moment. 'What is it? she asked. 'Only tell me. You know I wish for nothing so much as to help you. He did confess that there was nothing he should like better, if Archie would not be all the worse another time, whenever he should catch him alone.
She spoke kind to me once, she did. So I'll go away now, dear, and never come in again: but you wouldn't mind me listening at the door when Robbie's saying his prayers sometimes? 'No, answered Meg; 'and you may listen when I read up loud, if you like. I always read something afore I go to bed, and I'll speak up loud enough for you to hear.
I heard it with delight, for I was myself, thanks to M. de Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted with the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And I had made up my mind even as she spoke, it was my fixed determination, though I was a hundred miles from saying it to meet Flora on Monday night as a fellow-guest in Mr. Robbie's house.
There in the dusk of fading light from the clouded sky outside she beheld the swimming-tank deserted, its surface still glinting in soft ripples as if from recent plunging. At sound of a rustle in one of the dressing-rooms, Berta called Bea's name. It was Robbie's voice that answered her. "Bea's gone out walking." "Out walking?" echoed Berta scandalized and incredulous.
In the ensuing stillness, she could almost hear the disgusted thud of expectation dashed to earth. "Villain!" said Berta, and swung around to her interrupted poem. Robbie's puzzled stare developed slowly into a smile. "I think that is a joke," she said. Then Bea laughed. She collapsed on the sofa and shook from her boots to her curls.
Robbie's chest heaved abruptly under the shock of identifying the face amid the encircling throng. It was Jessica More, Elizabeth's best friend at college. This was the June of her class reunion. Robbie Belle was a senior. But Elizabeth was not there, as she had planned. Jessica had been expelled before she graduated, and Elizabeth had died. Before the singing was over, Jessica had disappeared.
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