Violet Jacob > Flemington

THE HEAVY HAND
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rupted she. “ Among other things, I must see
my man of business, and I have decided to do it
now. I shall be more useful to you in Edinburgh,
too. I have been too long out of personal touch
with those who can advance your interests. I
had a letter from Edinburgh yesterday; you are
better thought of there than you suspect, Archie.
I did not realize how important a scoundrel this
man Logie is, nor what your despatch to Montrose
implied.”
He was silent, looking on the ground.
She knew every turn of Archie’s manner, every
inflection of his voice. There was a gathering
sign of opposition on his face—the phantom of
some mood that must not be allowed to gain an
instant’s strength. It flashed on her that he had
not returned merely to fetch his clothes. There
was something wrong. She knew that at this
moment he was afraid of her, he who was afraid
of nothing else.
She stopped in the path and drew herself up,
considering where she should strike. Never,
never had she failed to bring him to his bearings.
There was only one fitting place for him, and
that was in the hollow of her hand.
“ Grandmother, I shall not go back to Balnillo,”
said he vehemently.
If the earth had risen up under her feet Madam
Flemington could not have been more astonished.
She stood immovable, looking at him, whilst an
inward voice, flying through her mind like a
snatch of broken sound, told her that she must
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