George accepted the maternal advice, and went out to Mauchline after business hours that very day.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XLI.

A GREAT RELIEF.

Next afternoon Gladys herself drove the lawyer and his wife from Bourhill to the station.

‘Now, my dear,’ said Mrs. Fordyce, as they were about to part, ’I shall allow the girls to come down on Saturday, on condition that you return with them at the end of a week, prepared to accompany us to London.’

Gladys nodded, with a bright smile.

’Yes, I shall do everything you wish.  I believe I am rather tired of having my own way, and I should not mind having a change, even from Bourhill.’

As they stood lingering a little over their good-byes, a train from Glasgow came puffing into the station, and, with a sudden gleam of expectation, Mrs. Fordyce glanced anxiously at the alighting passengers.

‘My dear, why, there is George! actually George himself.’

Gladys cast a startled glance in the direction indicated and the colour mounted high to her brow, then faded quite, leaving her rather strikingly pale.

‘Why does he come here?’ she asked quickly, ‘I have not asked him.’

’Unless you have broken off your engagement with him, Gladys, he has a right to come whether you ask him or not.  Tom dear, here is our train now, and we must run over that bridge.  We dare not miss it, I suppose?’

’I daren’t, seeing I have to take the chair at a dinner in the Windsor Hotel to-night,’ replied the lawyer; ’but if you like to remain a little longer, why not, Isabel?’

Mrs. Fordyce hesitated a moment.  Her nephew was giving up his ticket to the collector at the little gate, and their train was impatiently snorting at the opposite platform.

‘I had better go,’ she decided quickly, as her husband began to run off.  Turning to Gladys, she gave her a hasty kiss, and observed seriously,—­

’Be kind to poor George, Gladys; he is very fond of you, and you can make anything of him you like.  Write to me, like a dear, this evening, after he is away.’

She would have liked a word in her nephew’s private ear also, but time forbade it.  She waved her hand to him from the steps of the bridge, but he was so occupied looking at Gladys that he did not return her salutation.

Gladys stepped composedly into the phaeton, and, sitting up in rather a dignified way, accorded him a very calm, cool greeting.  His demeanour was significant of a slight nervousness as he approached the carriage, not at all sure of his ground.

‘I am in luck, Gladys,’ he said, trying to speak with a natural gaiety.  ‘Have I your permission to take a seat beside you?’

‘If you are going to Bourhill, of course you may,’ she replied quite calmly; then, turning to the groom, she said, without any hesitation, ’You can walk home, William.  Put my letters in at the post as you pass, and bring me five shillings’ worth of stamps.’