‘Eh, Mrs. Lothian, I’m glad to see you,’ she said, ‘but will you no sit down? My daughter is so taken up about parting with Ardnamore that she’s no as thoughtful as she should be. Ailie, my dear, I hope you’ve thanked Mrs. Lothian for coming to see you. It’s a real attention, and her no in the way of visiting; but you were ay friends. Will you no sit down?’ ‘I am going away,’ said Isabel, with a little dignity. ‘I have been here a long time. If there is anything I can do for Ailie, or anything Miss Catherine can do, if you will let us know----’ ‘Miss Catherine, no doubt, will come and see her,’ said Janet; ‘she’s her ain relation. Na, there’s nothing anybody can do. She’s in her ain house, and a pleasant house it is. But Mrs. Diarmid will ay be glad to see her friends. You see she’s taken up just at this moment with her husband going away,’ said the dauntless old woman, confronting Isabel bravely, with a look which defied criticism. Isabel, however, had been too much moved by the interview to have any regard for appearances. She turned round upon the watchful mother as soon as the door of the room closed upon them. ‘Oh, tell me,’ she said, ‘has she been long like this? Is she always like this? Is there nothing that can be done?’ ‘Like what, Mistress Lothian?’ said the old woman, looking direct into Isabel’s eyes. And then there was a dead pause. Janet’s forehead had a contraction in it which only anxiety could have made so distinctly visible among the native wrinkles. The ruddy old cheek was blanched out of its usual wholesome wintry colour; but she stood by the door of the room in which her daughter sat, like a sentinel, and defied the world. ‘I mean--oh, how can you ask me?--who can see her, and not feel their hearts break?’ cried Isabel. ‘Will it always be like this?’ ‘I dinna take your meaning,’ said Janet, grimly. ‘Ardnamore’s away on business, and Mrs. Diarmid is, maybe, no so cheerful as she might be. And I wouldna say but she’s a wee tired with her journey. I think ye never were abroad? It’s more fashious than just going to London. And when ye’ve been travelling like that, day and night, ye want rest.’ Isabel’s innocent mind was confused by this view of the matter. ‘Then, do you think, after all, that she’s not unhappy?’ she asked. ‘Unhappy!’ cried the old woman, ‘and her a good man, and a comfortable house, and well thought on, and everything that heart could desire!’