The Building of Jalna. Mazo de la Roche

you should have told me what they were saying.”

      “Ah, wisha, I thought it was just their way o’ spakin’. And did ye say the young geerl was off with them?”

      “Yes.”

      His little eyes twinkled. “Sure, I’m not at all surprised for I saw her with thim on the shore last Sunday marnin’, and I said to mesilf she was too free with Mr. Conway and himself with time heavy on his hands. And did ye say they’ve left the ship entirely?”

      She was only wasting her time talking to Patsy. She hurried back up the stairway and at the top met Philip. Each saw the concern on the face of the other.

      “What have you heard?” she demanded.

      “A sailor tells me that he saw your brothers and Mary Cameron walking separately back to the town just before we left.”

      “My God, why didn’t he tell us?”

      “He thought we knew. When he saw the carriage drive up he thought it had come to meet them. How did you hear?”

      “I had this letter.” She took it from her pocket and put it in his hand.

      “Those boys ought to be flogged,” he said, when he had read the letter.

      “Oh, if only they hadn’t taken Mary! Oh, how can we break the news to her mother?”

      “You did wrong, Adeline, to encourage that friendship. It’s let to a pretty kettle of fish.”

      She took hold of the railing and two tears rolled down her cheeks.

      “I know — now that it’s too late,” she said, in a trembling voice. Then, after a moment, she broke out — “We must go back for them! I’ll pay the cost from my own pocket!”

      “We cannot. It’s impossible.”

      “What do a few hours more matter — in such a case?”

      “Listen to reason, Adeline. If those three scallywags were waiting on the dock eager to be picked up we might do it — at a pretty cost to you. But they don’t want to come back to the ship. Doubtless, by this time, they are well on their way in quite another direction.”

      “Oh, whatever shall I do?” she groaned.

      “You’ll just have to go and tell Mrs. Cameron what her daughter has done. After all — it’s her fault. If the girl had been properly brought up she’d not have dreamed of doing such a thing.”

      “Philip, darling, would you go and break the news to the mother?”

      He looked aghast at the idea.

      “I couldn’t possibly,” he said. “You’ll have to do that.”

      “Well, will you stand beside me, in case —” She hesitated.

      “In case what?” he asked distantly.

      “She will be terribly upset. She will probably faint.”

      “I shall stand at a little distance — within reach but out of sight.”

      “That will do … Do you think I might write her a letter, as Sholto did me?”

      “By gad, if I had my hand on those boys! Yes — write her a letter, if you prefer that way.”

      “Perhaps you would write the letter. I believe she would take it better from you.”

      “I am no letter writer,” he answered testily. “Your family excels at that.” He took her by the arm. “Come into the salon and I’ll get a glass of sherry for you. That will put heart into you.”

      In the little room, graced by so high-flown a name, Adeline sipped the sherry and thought miserably of what she had to do. At one moment she would ejaculate — “Oh, the young villains!” And at the next — “Oh, the poor mother!” — or — “It were better the ship had gone down with all of us!” But the sherry did her good and finally she sprang up exclaiming — “I’ll do it now and have it over.”

      “That’s a good girl,” he said.

      She scowled. “Don’t you ‘good girl’ me! After all, you should be breaking the news to her. You’re a man and ’tis your own brother-in-law has done the mischief!”

      “Adeline, I cannot.”

      He followed her down to the door of Mrs. Cameron’s cabin. She rapped, trembling in every limb.

      “Yes?” came the voice from within.

      “Mrs. Cameron, I have something to tell you.”

      “Come in.”

      She found Mrs. Cameron putting things in order and still wearing a hurt air. But there was something touching about her. She was small and neat and you could see she had been through a great deal. Adeline spoke gently.

      “A while ago you said you supposed Mary was off somewhere with those brothers of mine. You were right. She is.”

      Mary’s mother only stared.

      “She is off with them,” went on Adeline. “Right off the ship and away home!”

      “Are you mad?” said Mrs. Cameron. “What nonsense are you telling me?”

      “It is the truth. They left the ship — Mary and my two little brothers — but they’ve gone home. She’ll be quite safe.”