"No, indeed, my son! I am very sorry for you. After being so taken with the young woman,--" Alister looked straight in his mother's face. "You do not imagine, mother," he said, "it will make any difference as to Mercy?" "Not make any difference!" echoed Mrs. Macruadh. "What is it possible you can mean, Alister?" The anger that glowed in her dark eyes made her look yet handsomer, proving itself not a mean, though it might be a misplaced anger. "Is she different, mother, from what she was before you had the letter?" "You did not then know what she was!" "Just as well as I do now. I have no reason to think she is not what I thought her." "You thought her the daughter of a gentleman!" "Hardly. I thought her a lady, and such I think her still." "Then you mean to go on with it?" "Mother dear," said Alister, taking her by the hand, "give me a little time. Not that I am in any doubt--but the news has been such a blow to me that--" "It must have been!" said the mother. "--that I am afraid of answering you out of the soreness of my pride, and Ian says the Truth is never angry." "I am quite willing you should do nothing in a hurry," said the mother. She did not understand that he feared lest, in his indignation for Mercy, he should answer his mother as her son ought not. "I will take time," he replied. "And here is Ian to help me!" "Ah! if only your father were here!" "He may be, mother! Anyhow I trust I shall do nothing he would not like!" "He would sooner see son of his marry the daughter of a cobbler than of a brewer!" "So would I, mother!" said Alister. "I too," said Ian, "would much prefer that my sister-in-law's father were not a brewer." "I suppose you are splitting some hair, Ian, but I don't see it," remarked his mother, who had begun to gather a little hope. "You will be back by supper-time, Alister, I suppose?" "Certainly, mother. We are only going to the village." The brothers went. "I knew everything you were thinking," said Ian. "Of course you did!" answered Alister. "But I am very sorry!" "So am I! It is a terrible bore!" A pause followed. Alister burst into a laugh that was not merry. "It makes me think of the look on my father's face," he said, "once at the market, as he was putting in his pocket a bunch of more than usually dirty bank-notes. The look seemed almost to be making apology that he was my father--the notes were SO DIRTY! 'They're better than they look, lad!' he said." "What ARE you thinking of, Alister?" "Of nothing you are not thinking of, Ian, I hope in God! Mr. Palmer's money is worse than it looks." "You frightened me for a moment, Alister!" "How could I, Ian?" "It was but a nervo-mechanical fright. I knew well enough you could mean nothing I should not like. But I see trouble ahead, Alister!" "We shall be called a pack of fools, but what of that! We shall be told the money itself was clean, however dirty the hands that made it! The money-grubs!"