Kindred of the Dust

  XX

  The instant the front door closed behind her son, Mrs. McKayerecovered her composure. Had the reason been more trifling, she wouldhave wept longer, but, in view of its gravity, her common sense (shepossessed some, when it pleased her to use it) bade her be up anddoing. Also, she was smitten with remorse. She told herself she waspartly to blame for this scourge that had come upon the family; shehad neglected her son and his indulgent father. She, who knew so wellthe peculiar twists of her husband's mental and moral make-up, shouldnot be surprised if he cast a tolerant eye upon his son'sphilanderings; seemingly the boy had always been able to twist hisfather round his finger, so to speak. She sat up, dabbed her eyes,kissed Jane lovingly as who should say, "Well, thank God, here is onechild I can rely upon," and turned upon the culprit. Her openingsentence was at once a summons and an invitation.

  "Well, Hector?"

  "It happened while you were away--while we were both away, Nellie. Iwas gone less than forty-eight hours--and he had compromised himself."

  "You don't mean--really compromised himself!" Jane cried sharply, thusbringing upon her The Laird's attention. He appeared to transfix herwith his index finger.

  "To bed with you, young lady!" he ordered. "Your mother and I willdiscuss this matter without any of your pert suggestions orexclamations. I'm far from pleased with you, Jane. I told you to shutthat door, and you disobeyed me. For that, you shall suffer duepenance. Six months in Port Agnew, my dear, to teach you obedience andhumility. Go!"

  Jane departed, sniffling, and this stern evidence of The Laird'stemper was not lost upon his wife. She decided to be tactful, which,in her case, meant proceeding slowly, speaking carefully, andlistening well. Old Hector heaved himself out of his great chair, cameand sat down on the divan with his wife, and put his arm round her.

  "Dear old Nellie!" he whispered, and kissed her.

  For the moment, they were lovers of thirty-odd years agone; theirchildren forgotten, they were sufficient unto themselves.

  "I know just how you feel, Nellie. I have done my best to spare you--Ihave not connived or condoned. And I'll say this for our son: He'sbeen open and above-board with her and with me. He's young, and in amoment of that passion that comes to young men--aye, and young women,too, for you and I have known it--he told her what was in his heart,even while his head warned him to keep quiet. It seems to me sometimesthat 'tis something that was to be."

  "Oh, Hector, it mustn't be! It cannot be!"

  "I'm hoping it will not be, Nellie. I'll do my best to stop it."

  "But, Hector, why did you support him a moment ago?"

  He flapped a hand to indicate a knowledge of his own incomprehensibleconduct.

  "She'd called for him, Nellie. Poor bairn, her heart went out to theone she knew would help her, and, by God, Nellie, I felt for her!You're a woman, Nellie. Think--if one of your own daughters waswishful for a kind word and a helping hand from an honorable gentlemanand some fool father forbade it. Nellie wife, my heart and my head aresore tangled, sore tangled--"

  His voice broke. He was shaken with emotion. He had stood much and hehad stood it alone; while it had never occurred to him to think so, hehad been facing life pretty much alone for a decade. It would haveeased his surcharged spirit could he have shed a few manly tears, ifhis wife had taken his leonine old head on her shoulder and lavishedupon him the caresses his hungry heart yearned for. Unfortunately, shewas that type of wife whose first and only thought is for herchildren. She was aware only that he was in a softened mood, so shesaid,

  "Don't you think you've been a little hard on poor Jane, Hector dear?"

  "No, I do not. She's cruel, selfish, and uncharitable."

  "But you'll forgive her this once, won't you, dear?"

  He considered.

  "Well, if she doesn't heckle Donald--" he began, but she stoppedfurther proviso with a grateful kiss, and immediately followed Janeup-stairs to break the good news to her. She and Jane then joinedElizabeth in the latter's room, and the trio immediately held whattheir graceless relative would have termed "a lodge of sorrow." Uponmotion of Jane, seconded by Elizabeth, it was unanimously resolvedthat the honor of the family must be upheld. At all cost. They laidout a plan of campaign.