The old lady turned and scrutinised steadily the young face turned so pleadingly toward her.Slowly under that steady gaze the red crept up into the white cheek, like the first dawning of day, till the whole face and neck were in a hot flame of colour.Yet the grey, lustrous eyes never wavered, but, unshrinking, answered the old lady's searching look.At that revealing wave of colour Shock's mother made as if to push the girl away from her, but, with a quick change of mood, she took her in her arms instead.
"Ay, poor lassie, you too! Yes, yes, you may stay with me now."The motherly touch and tone and the knowledge that her secret had been read were more than Helen could bear.She clung to Mrs.
Macgregor, sobbing passionate sobs.
At this extraordinary outburst Mrs.Fairbanks came back into the room and stood with Shock and the others gazing in utter amazement upon this scene.
"Whist now, lassie, whist now," Mrs.Macgregor was saying, "never you fear, he'll come back again.""What on earth is this nonsense, Helen?" Mrs.Fairbanks' voice was haughty and suspicious."What does this mean?""It means," said Mrs.Macgregor with quiet dignity, "what neither you nor I can help or harm.""Helen, speak to me."
At the stern command Helen lifted her face, still hot with blushes, and stood looking straight into her mother's eyes.Her mother turned from her impatiently.
"Do you know what this means?" she said to Shock.
"What? I don't understand," replied Shock, gazing helplessly at the haughty, angry face turned toward him.
"Have you dared to speak to my daughter?""Oh, mamma," cried Helen, in an agony of mortification, "how can you?""You may well be ashamed," said Mrs.Fairbanks, who had quite lost control of herself, "throwing yourself at the head of a man so far beneath you, with no prospects, and who does not even want you.""So far beneath, did you say?" cried Mrs.Macgregor quickly."Woman, say no more.You shame yourself, let alone your child.Whist,"--checking the other's speech--"the blood in the veins of Hector Macgregor yonder" (pointing to the portrait of the Highland soldier on the wall) "was as proud as that in any Lowland trader of you.""What sort of conduct, then, is this?" answered Mrs.Fairbanks angrily."Have you encouraged your son?""Hush, mother," said Shock, suddenly awakening to an understanding of what was happening, "let me speak."The stern voice compelled silence.Shock was a new man to them all.
He was thinking quickly now for his mother, for himself, but most of all for the girl he loved, who stood with face turned away and eyes cast down in intolerable humiliation.
"Mrs.Fairbanks," said Shock, speaking slowly and with quiet dignity, "if I have not spoken of love to your daughter, it is not because I have not loved her well and for long, but because I could not feel myself worthy of her.Hush, mother; I am not worthy of her, nor shall I ever be, not by reason of any difference in blood,--for there is no difference,--but because of what she is herself, so far above me.I have never spoken with my lips of love, and yet for many and many a day I have feared that my eyes, and all else that could speak, must have told her I loved her.And if it should be--for Iwill not pretend to misunderstand you--if it should be that it is possible she should ever love me, then there has come to me a joy greater than I could have hoped, and whatever may, come of it, this day is the happiest of my life."As Shock began to speak, Helen lifted her face, and as she listened her look of grief and shame fled, and in her eyes a light of joy began to dawn, then grew till it seemed to overflow in waves across her beautiful face.And as Shock continued his calm, manly words pride mingled in her joy, and her head lifted itself with a grace and dignity that matched that of the old lady standing by her side.
Mrs.Fairbanks stood fairly speechless at Shock's words and at the look of joy and pride she saw upon her daughter's face.
