They spoke no more, but walked silently side by side, until they drew
near to the inn, when suddenly the silence of the Glen was broken by a
strange, unaccustomed sound. What was it? Whence did it come? From
some animal surely; some animal in pain or fear, piteously making known
its needs! It could not be the moan of human woe! Yet even as she
passionately denied the thought, Margot recognised in her heart that it
was true, and darting quickly forward made her way into the inn parlour.
The messenger still stood outside the door, waiting in stolid patience
for instructions, and by his side was Mrs McNab, wiping floury hands in
her apron, in evident perturbation of spirit.
On the plush-bedecked sofa in the corner of the parlour the half-
inanimate form of Mrs Macalister swayed helplessly to and fro, while on
either side stood two men--her husband and George Elgood--looking on in
helpless, masculine fashion. Her cap had fallen back from her head, her
ruddy face was bleached to a livid grey, from her lips came from time to
time that pitiful, hopeless wail. At first it seemed to have no
definite sound, but as one listened it took to itself words,--always the
same words, repeated again and again-"My lassie! My Lizzie! Oh, my lassie!"
"Nay, dearie, nay! You mustna give way. She's better off. You must be
strong. We'll bear it together."
It was Mr Macalister who spoke; but Margot hardly recognised the voice,
hardly recognised the face, which, for all its pallor and quiver of
pain, was yet strong and calm. All trace of the peevish discontent that
had hung like a cloud over the man had vanished like a mist; his bowed
back seemed to have straightened itself and grown erect; the whining
voice was composed and full of courage. He had forgotten his nerves in
the presence of a great calamity; nay, more than that--he had forgotten
himself; his one care and anxiety was for his wife!
The tears smarted in Margot's eyes; she ran forward, dropped on her
knees before the chair, and clasped her strong young arms round the
swaying figure, steadying it with loving, gentle pressure. The wan eyes
stared at her unrecognisingly for a moment, then, at the sight of her
girlish beauty, old memories returned, and the tears began to rain.
"Lizzie's gone! Lizzie's gone! I'll never see her again. All in a
moment, and me so far away. My little Lizzie!... I canna bear it!..."
"She never suffered, mother. She knew nothing about it. It's better
for her than a long, painful illness. You must be thankful for her
sake." Mr Macalister looked down at Margot, and bravely essayed an
explanation. "It was an accident. We've just heard. Instantaneous,
they say. The mother's sore upset, but she's a brave woman. She'll
bear it bravely for all our sakes. We'll need to get back to Glasgow."