'It's hard to know right from wrong, Marjory; but I am quick to decide, and once decided, never falter. I try to do all for the best.'
'I know it, I know it. But child, my Lady Deb, have no dealin's with that old man Master Sinclair. He's a demon.'
'Hush! or give the demon his due, Marjory. He has been kind to my brother Charlie.'
'For what? We all know it; all Enderby knows what he's after.'
'That is no concern of Enderby's. I hate this gossip. Look you, dame, if I choose to wed fifty such, it is no concern of Enderby's. If I did wed Master Sinclair, it would be of mine own free will: let all the world know that!'
'But thou'lt never wed him, dearie!' cried the old nurse, in tremulous breathless haste.
'I do not answer you Yes or No; but I am my own mistress.'
'Too much so--ever too much so,' muttered Marjory below her breath.
'That thou wantest a strong kind hand over thee, bein' too headstrong by half. I wish Master King was here; _he'd_ advise thee!'
'Best not,' said Deborah, with a quick breath of pain. 'Let "Master King" attend to his own affairs. Each one has his troubles. Nurse, love me! I have need of it. O that I were a little tiny child again, when, in affright or in distress, I wrapped these arms o' thine about me; and they would seem to shelter me from all the world! O that thou wert magician, fairy, to give me my childhood back! I was happy _then_.'
'An' not now? What ails my bright bird? Is it Master Charlie?'
'O Marjory, don't speak of that. Look you at his picture; look there! Could those fearless eyes ever turn aside in shame or dread? Would Charlie, with all his faults, ever bring _dishonour_ on us? Tell me that?'
'No, _never_.' The old face turned white, but did not flinch; Marjory believed in the honour of her wild boy, as in her own soul.
'Ah, Marjory, nurse, my darling! How I do love thee! No; never believe that any but a black liar would ever accuse Charlie Fleming of a mean low act. Wild, reckless he may be, but dishonourable, never! Ah, my love, my comfort, our true and faithful friend, _we_ believe in Charlie Fleming!'
'Where is my boy?' asked the old woman, with troubled tears in her eyes. 'Why don't he come to Enderby? They _will_ say strange things o' him if he don't come home. Oh, he'll break his father's heart by bein' so wild; but it's his father's blood that's in him.'