mrs ogilvy rose from her bed after the little conversation which had roused her more effectually than anything else could have done, more than half ashamed of having slept, and a little feverish with her sudden awakening and robbie’s strange demand: and though it was late—more like, indeed, the proper and lawful moment for going to bed than for getting up and making an unnecessary toilet in the middle of the night—put on her cap again, and her pretty white shawl, and went down-stairs. she had put on one of the fine embroidered china crape-shawls which were for the evening, and, to correspond with that, a clean cap with perfectly fresh ribbons, which gave her the air of being in her best, more carefully dressed than usual. and her long sleep had refreshed her. when she went into the dining-room, where janet was removing the remains of the supper from the table, she was like an image of peace and whiteness and{301} brightness coming into the room, to which, however, carefully janet might arrange it, the two men always gave a certain aspect of disorder. mrs ogilvy had tried to dismiss from her face every semblance of agitation. she would not remember the request robbie had made to her, nor think of it at all save as a sudden impulse of reckless generosity on his part to his friend. the two young men, however, were not equally successful in composing their faces. robbie had his pipe in his hand, which he had crammed with tobacco, pushing it down with his thumb, as if to try how much it would contain; but he did not light it: and even lew, usually so careless and smiling, looked grave. he it was who jumped up to place a chair for her. janet had so far improved matters that the remains of the meal were all cleared away, and only the white tablecloth left on the table.

“i think shame of myself,” said mrs ogilvy, “to have been overtaken by sleep in this way: but it is very seldom i go in to edinburgh, and the hot streets and the glaring sun are not what i am used to. however, perhaps i am all the better of it, and my head clearer. i doubt if, when it’s at its clearest, it would be of much service to you—men that both know the world better than i do, though you are but laddies to me.”

“yes; i think we know the world better than you do,” said lew. “we’ve been a bit more about. this is a sweet little place, but you don’t see much of life;{302} and then you’re too good, mother, to understand it if you saw it,” he said.

“you are mistaken, mr lew, in thinking there is little life to be seen here: everywhere there is life, in every place where god’s creatures are. many a story have i seen working out, many a thing that might have been acted on the stage, many a tragedy, too, though you mightn’t think it. the heart and the mind are the same wherever you find them—and love, that is the grandest and most terrible thing on this earth, and death, and trouble. oh, i could not tell you in a long summer day the things i have seen!”

“very different from our kind of things, mother,” said lew, with a laugh. “i don’t suppose you’ve seen anything like the fix we’re in at present, for instance: the police on our heels, and not a penny to get out of the way with—and in this blessed old country, where you’ve to go by the railway and pay for all your meals. these ain’t the things that suit us, are they, bob?”

robert was standing up, leaning against the securely closed and curtained window. the night was very warm, and the windows being closed, it was hot inside. his face was completely in shade, and he made no reply, but stood like a shadow, moving only his hand occasionally, pressing down the tobacco in the over-charged pipe.

“i have told you, mr lew,” mrs ogilvy said, with a slight quiver in her voice, “that whatever money{303} you may want for your journey, and something to give you a new start wherever you go, you should have, and most welcome—oh, most welcome! i say, not for my robbie’s sake, but out of my own heart. oh, laddie, you are but young yet! i have said it before, and i will say it again—whatever you may have done in the past, life is always your own to change it now.”

“we will consider all that as said,” said lew, with the movement of concealing a slight yawn. “you’ve been very kind in that as in everything else, putting my duty before me; but there’s something more urgent just at present. this money—we must go far, bob and i, if we’re to be safe——”

“not robbie, not robbie!” she cried.

“we must go far if we’re to be safe, not back where we were. it’s a pity when a place becomes too hot to hold you, especially when it’s the place that suits you best. we’ll have to go far. i have my ideas on that point; but it’s better not to tell them to you: for then when you are questioned you can’t answer, don’t you see.”

“but robbie—is not pursued. robbie, robbie! you will never leave me! oh, you will not leave me again, and break my heart!”

robbie did not say a word: his face was completely in the shadow, and nothing could be read there any more than from his silent lips.

“going far means a deal of money; setting up{304} again means a deal of money. if we were to open a bank, for instance,” said lew, with a short laugh—“a respectable profession, and just in our way. that’s probably what we shall do—we shall open a bank; but it wants money, a deal of money—a great deal of money. you would like to see your son a respectable banker, eh? then, old lady, you must draw your purse-strings.”

“i do not think,” said mrs ogilvy, “that robbie would do much as a banker—nor you either, mr lew. you would have to be at office-desks every day and all the day. to me it would seem natural, but to you that have used yourselves, alack! to such different things—— and then it is not what you call just money that is wanted. it is capital; and where are you to find it? oh, my dear laddies, in this you know less, not more, than me. you must get folk to trust in you by degrees when you have showed yourselves trustworthy. but a bank at once, without either character—alack, that i should say it!—or capital. oh no, my dears, oh, not a bank, not a bank, whatever you do!”

“you must trust us, mother—we know what we’re talking about: a bank—which is perhaps not just exactly the kind of thing you are thinking of—is the only thing for bob and me; but we must have money, money, money,” he said, tapping with his hand upon the table.{305}

“capital,” said mrs ogilvy, with a confident air of having suggested something quite different.

“it’s the same thing, only more of it; and as that lies with you to furnish, we shall not quarrel about the word.”

“there is some mistake,” said mrs ogilvy, with dignity. “i have never said, i have never promised. mr lew, i found out to-day what was the passage-money of the farthest place you could go to, and i have got the siller here in the house.”

the dark figure at the window stirred a little, raising a hand as if in warning: the other listened with a sudden, eager gleam in his eyes, leaning forward. it made his face shine to hear of the money in the house.

“yes,” he said, joyfully, “that’s something like speaking. i love a practical mind. you have got it here in the house?” there came a certain tigerish keenness into his look, as if he might have snatched at her, torn it from her. the shadow against the window stirred a little, but whether in sympathy with the keen desire of the one, or touched by the aspect of the other, it was impossible to tell. meanwhile mrs ogilvy, suspecting nothing, saw nothing to fear.

“it is in the house. i got it even in english notes, that you might have no trouble. there will be a hundred pounds,” said mrs ogilvy. she spoke with a{306} little pride, as of one announcing a great thing, a donation almost unparalleled, but which yet she gave like a princess, not grudging. “and thirty besides,” she added, with a little sigh, “that when you get there you may not be without a pound in your pocket. i give it you with all my heart, mr lew. oh, if the money, the poor miserable siller, might maybe be the means of calling you back to a steady and to an honest life!”

lew said nothing in reply: his hungry eyes, lighted up by such a gleam of covetousness, gave one fiery glance at robbie standing, as it seemed, imperturbable, immovable, in the shade. then he began to beat out a tune on the table with his fingers: but he made no other answer, to mrs ogilvy’s great surprise.

“i believe,” she said, with hesitation, “that will pay a passage even to india; but if you should find that it will need more——”

he went on with his tune, beating on the table, half whistling to accompany the beats of his fingers. something of the aspect of a fierce animal, lashing its tail, working itself up into fury, had come into his usually smiling pleasant looks, though the smile was still on his face.

“i fear,” he said, with the gleam in his eyes which she began to perceive with wonder, “that it is not enough. they will be of no use to us, these few shillings. i thought you would have done anything for your son; but i find, mother, that you’re like all{307} the mothers, good for everything in words, but for a little less in money. you will have to give us more than that——”

mrs ogilvy was much surprised, but would not believe her ears. she said mildly, “i have told you, mr lew: it is not for my son, but chiefly out of a great feeling i have for yourself, poor laddie, that have nobody to advise you or lead you in a better way.”

“you may preach if you like,” he said, with a laugh, “if you’re ready to pay; but no preaching without paying, old lady. come, let’s look at it a little closer. here are you rolling in money, and he there, your only son, sent out into the world——”

“not robbie,” she cried, with a gasp, “not robbie! i said it was for you——”

“we do not mean to be parted, however,” he said. “you must double your allowance, mother, and then see how much you can add to that.”

she looked at her son, clasping her hands together, her face, amid the whiteness of her dress, whiter still, its only colour the eyes, so bright and trustful by nature, looking at him with a supreme but voiceless appeal. whether it touched him or not, could not be seen: he stirred a little, but probably only as a relief from his attitude of stillness—and his face was too deep in the shade to betray any expression for good or for evil.{308}

then mrs ogilvy rose up trembling to her feet. she said, clasping her hands again as if to strengthen herself, “i have been very wishful to do all to please you—to treat you, mr lew, as if you were—what can i say?—not my own son, for he is but one—but like the son of my friend. but i have a duty—i am not my own woman, to do just what i please. i have a charge of my son before the lord. i will give you this money to take you away, for this is not your place or your home, and you have nothing ado here. but my son: robbie, all i have is yours—you can have it all when you like and how you like, my own boy. but not to go away with this man. if you will forsake your home, let it be well considered and at another time. to take you away with this man, fleeing before the pursuer, taking upon you a shame and a sin that is not yours—— no! i will not give you a penny of your father’s money and my savings for that. no, no!—all, when you will, in sobriety and judgment, but nothing now.”

her smallness, her weakness, her trembling, were emphasised by the fact that she seemed to tower over lew where he sat, and to stand like a rock between the two strong men.

“you’re a plucky old girl,” said her antagonist, with a laugh—“i always said so—game to the last: but we can’t stand jabbering all night, don’t you know.{309} business is business. you must fork out if you were the queen, my fine old lady. sit down, for there’s a good deal to say.”

“i can hear what you have to say as i am, if it is anything reasonable,” mrs ogilvy said. she felt, though she could scarcely keep that upright position by reason of agitation and fear, that she had an advantage over him as she stood.

he sprang to his feet before she knew what was going to happen, and with two heavy hands upon her shoulders replaced her in her chair. i will not say forced her back into it, though indeed that was how it was. she leaned back panting and astonished, and looked at him, but did not rise or subject herself to that violence again.

“i hope i did not hurt you—i didn’t intend to hurt you,” he said: “but you must remember, mother, though you treat us as boys, that we’re a pair of not too amiable men—and could crush you with a touch, with a little finger,” he added, looking half fiercely, half with a jest, into her eyes.

“no,” she said very softly, “you could not crush me—not with all your power.”

“give that paper here, bob,” said his chief.

robert scarcely moved, did not reveal himself in any way to the light, but with a faint stir of his large shadow produced a folded paper which had been within the breast of his coat. lew took it and{310} played with it somewhat nervously, the line of white like a wand of light in his hands.

“you are rolling in wealth,” he said.

she made as if she had said “no!” shaking her head, but took no other notice of the question.

“we have reason to suppose you are well off, at least. you have got your income, which can’t be touched, and you have got a lot of money well invested.”

she did not make any reply, but looked at him steadily, marking every gesture.

“it is this,” he said, “to which bob has a natural right. i think we are very reasonable. we don’t want to rob you, notwithstanding our great need of money: you can see that we wish to use no violence, only to set before you what you ought to do.”

“i will not do it,” said mrs ogilvy.

“we’ll see about that. i have been thinking about this for some time, and i have taken my measures. here is a list which we got from your man—the old fogey you threatened us with—or at least from his man. and here is a letter directing everything to be realised, and the money paid over to your son. you will sign this——”

“from my man—you are meaning mr somerville?” mrs ogilvy looked at the paper which had been thrust into her hand, bewildered. “and he never said a word of it to me!”{311}

“don’t let us lay the blame where it isn’t due,” said the other, lightly: “from his man. probably the respectable old fogey never knew——”

“ah!” she cried, “the clerk that was robbie’s friend! then it was robbie himself——”

“robbie himself,” said lew, in the easiest tone, “as it was he who had the best, the only, right to find out. now, mother, come! execute yourself as bravely as you have done the other things. sign, and we’ll have a glass all round, and part the best friends in the world. when you wake in the morning you’ll find we’ve cleared out.”

“it was robbie,” she said to herself, murmuring, scarcely audible to the others, “it was robbie—robbie himself.” she took no notice of the paper which was placed before her. all her mind seemed occupied by this. “robbie—it was robbie, my son.”

“who should it be but bob? do you think that information would have been furnished to me? what did i know about it? it was bob, of course; and don’t you think he was quite right? come! here’s pen and ink ready. sign, and then it will be all over. it goes against me, mother, to ask anything you don’t like—it does, though you mayn’t believe me. now, one moment, and the thing will be done.”

he spoke to her, coaxing her, as to a child, but there was a kindling devil in his eye. robbie never{312} raised his head or opened his mouth, but he made to his comrade an imperative gesture with his hand. the tension was becoming too much to bear.

“come, mother,” said lew, “sign—sign!”

this time she did not rise up as before. she had a faint physical dread of provoking his touch upon her person again; but she lifted her head, and looking at him, said steadily, “no.”

“no?—you say this to us who could—kill you with a touch?”

“i will not do it,” she said.

“do you know what you are saying, old woman?—tempting me, tempting him, to murder? you needn’t look to the door: there is not a soul that could hear you—andrew’s fast asleep, and you wouldn’t call him, to bear witness against your son.”

“no,” she said, “i would not call him to bear witness—against—my son.”

“sign! sign! sign!” cried lew; “do you think we’ll wait for you all night?”

“i will not sign.”

“old woman! you wretched old fool, trusting, i suppose, to that fellow there! better trust me than him. look here, no more of this. you shall sign whether you will or not.” he seized her hand as he spoke, thrust the pen into it, and forced it upon the paper. her little wrist seemed to crush together in his big hand. she gave a faint cry, but no more.{313} her fingers remained motionless in his hold. he was growing red with impatience and fury, his eyes fierce, his mouth set. she looked up at him for a moment, but said not a word.

“will you do it? will you do it?—at once!—when i tell you.”

“no.”

he let her hand go and seized her by the shoulders. he had by this time forgotten everything except that he was crossed and resisted by a feeble creature in his power. and in this state he was appalling, murder in his eye, and an ungovernable impulse in his mind. he seized her by her shoulders, the white shawl crumpling in soft folds not much less strong to resist than the flesh beneath in his hands, and shook her, violently, furiously, like a dog rather than a man.

“do what i tell you, woman! sign!”

“no.”

she thought that she was dead. she thought it was death, her breath going from her, her eyes turning in their sockets. next moment a roar of rage seemed to pass over her head, she was pushed aside like a straw flung out of the fiery centre of the commotion, the grip gone from her shoulders, and she herself suddenly turned as it were into nothing, like the chair at which she clutched to support herself, not knowing what it was. she had a vision for a moment of robbie, her son, standing where she had{314} stood, tearing and tearing again in a hundred pieces a paper in his hands, while lew against the opposite wall, as if he too had been dashed out of the way like herself, stood breathing hard, his eyes glaring, his arm up. next moment she was pushed suddenly, not without violence, thrust out of the room, and the door closed upon her. all was dark outside, and she helpless, broken, bleeding she thought, a wounded, lacerated creature, not able to stand, far more unable in the tumult and trouble of body and soul to go away, to seek any help or shelter. she dropped down trembling upon her knees, with her head against that closed door.