Before Alick Gell reached his father's house another had been there
on the same errand.
Earlier in the afternoon Dan Baldromma, while running his hands
through the ground flour in the mill, with the wheel throbbing and
the stones groaning about him, had been struck by a new idea.
"Liza," he said, returning to the dwelling house and standing with
his back to the fire and his big hands behind him, "that young
wastrel ought to be freckened into marrying the girl, and I'm
thinking I know the way to do it, too."
"It's like thou do, Dan," said Mrs. Collister.
Dan's device was of the simplest. It was that of sending the mother
of Bessie Collister to the mother of Alick Gell to threaten and
intimidate her.
"But sakes alive, man, that's an ugly job, isn't it?"
"It's got to be done, woman, or there'll be worse to do next, I tell
thee. Thou don't want to see thy daughter where her mother was
before her."
"Well, well, if I must, I must," said Mrs. Collister. "But, aw dear,
aw dear! If thou hadn't thrown the girl into the way of temptation
by shutting the door on her...."
"Hould thy whist, woman, and do as I tell thee, and that will be the
best night's work I ever done for her."
Half an hour later, having swept the earthen floor, hung the kettle
on its sooty chain, and laid the table for Dan's tea, Mrs. Collister
toiled upstairs to dress for her journey, and came down in the poke
bonnet and satin mantle which she wore to chapel on Sunday.
Meantime Dan had harnessed the old mare to the stiff cart and brought
it round to the door. Having helped his wife over the wheel and put
the rope reins in her hands, he gave her his parting instructions.
"See thou stand up for thy rights, now! This is thy chance and
thou's got to make the best of it!"
"Aw well, we'll see," said the old woman, and then the stiff cart
rattled over the cobbled "street" on its way to the Speaker's.
In her comfortable sitting-room, thickly carpeted and plentifully
cushioned, Mrs. Gell was awakened from her afternoon nap by the
scream of the peacocks.
"It's Mistress Daniel Collister of Baldromma to see you, ma'am," said
the maid.
At the next moment, Mrs. Collister, with a timid air, hobbled into
the room on her stick, and the two mothers came face to face.
"You wish to speak to me," said Mrs. Gell.
"If you plaze, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, huskily.
Isabella Gell, a sour-faced young woman, came into the room and stood
behind her mother's chair. Mrs. Collister took the seat that was
assigned to her, and fumbled the ribbons of her bonnet to loosen them.
"It's about my daughter, ma'am."
"Well?"
"My daughter and your son, ma'am."
"Eh?"
"Cæsar Qualtrough of the Kays has seen them together. They're living
down Castletown way, they're saying."
"Living .... my son and your daughter?"
"So they're saying, ma'am."
"I don't believe it! I don't believe a word of it!"
"I wish in my heart I could say the same, ma'am. But it's truth
enough, I'm fearing."
"And if it is--I don't say it is, but if it is--why have you come to
me?"
Then trembling all over, Mrs. Collister continued her story. Her
poor girl was in trouble. When a girl was in trouble the world could
be cruel hard on her. Nobody would think the cruel hard it could be.
If a girl did wrong it was because somebody she was fond of had
promised to marry her. What else would she do it for? When a young
man had behaved like that to a poor girl he ought to keep his word to
her. And if he had a mother, and she was a good Christian woman....
Mrs. Gell, who was beating her foot on the carpet, broke in
impatiently.
"In short, you think my son ought to marry your daughter?"
"It's nothing but right, ma'am."
"And you've come here to ask me to tell him to do so?"
"If you plaze, ma'am."
"Well, I never!" said Isabella.
"She's a mother herself, I was thinking, and if one of her own girls
was in the same position...."
"The idea!" said Isabella.
"Mrs. Collister," said Mrs. Gell, with a proud lift of her head, "I
was sorry when I heard of the trouble your daughter had brought on
you, but what you are doing now is a piece of great assurance."
"But Bessie is a good girl, ma'am. And if she married your son you
would never have raison to be ashamed of her."
"Good indeed! If a girl isn't ashamed to be living with a young man
the less said about her goodness the better."
"Aw well, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister (her faltering tongue had
become firmer and her timid eyes had begun to flash), "if she's
living with the young man, he's living with her, and the shame is the
same for both, I'm thinking."
Mrs. Gell drew herself up in her chair.
"I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Collister! A woman yourself, and not
seeing the difference."
"Aw yes, difference enough, ma'am! And when a young man doesn't keep
his word it's the woman that's knowing it best by the trouble that's
coming on her."
Mrs. Gell, whose anger was rising, lifted her chin again and said,
"If your daughter is in trouble, Mrs. Collister, how are we to know
that she had not brought it on her own head, just to get Alick to
marry her?"
"The creature!" said Isabella.
"And how are we to know that you and your husband have not encouraged
the girl in her wickedness just to get our son for your son-in-law?"
"Aw well, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister (she was fumbling at the
strings of her bonnet to tighten them), "if you are thinking as bad
of me as that...."
"You talk of the danger to your daughter if my son doesn't marry
her," said Mrs. Gell. "But what of the danger to my son if he does?
His life will be ruined. He will never be able to raise his head in
the island again. His father will disown him. Marry your daughter
indeed! Not only will I not ask him to marry her, but if I see the
slightest danger of his doing anything so foolish I will do
everything I can to prevent it."
"Aw well, we'll say no more, ma'am," said Mrs. Collister, and she
shuffled to her feet.
But Mrs. Gell was up before her.
"Alexander Gell, son of the Speaker and grandson of Archdeacon
Mylechreest, married to the step-daughter of Dan Baldromma and the
nameless offspring of Liza Collister....
"Ma'am!"
Mrs. Collister had hobbled to the door, and was going out, humbled
and beaten, when Mrs. Gell's last words cut her to the quick. For
more than twenty years she had taken the punishment of her own sin
and bowed her head to the lash of it, but at this insult to her child
the weak and timid creature turned about, as brave as a lion and as
fierce as a fury.
"I'm not your quality, I know that, ma'am," she said, breathing
quickly, "but a day is coming, and maybe it's near, when we'll be
standing together where we'll both be equal. Just two old mothers,
and nothing else between us. If you've loved your son, I've loved my
daughter, whatever she is, ma'am. And when the One who reads all
hearts is after asking me what I did for my child in the day of her
trouble, I'll be telling Him I came here to beg you on my knees to
save her from a life of sin and shame, and you wouldn't, because your
worldly pride prevented. And then it's Himself, ma'am, will be
judging between us!"