Marianne gazed at him in astonishment. His incoherent speech, his flushed face, and a certain air of suppressed excitement immediately aroused the suspicion that he had been drinking. Before she could answer he took her by the arm and fairly dragged her into the library.
"This is Mr. MacGregor," he said, indicating the young man who had politely risen from his chair. "Miss Ransom, Mr. MacGregor. Perhaps you would – er – entertain him, I must… I must go on an errand."
Upon which he rushed out, leaving Marianne staring. An amused chuckle from Mr. MacGregor made her turn.
"What an excitable, enthusiastic fellow!" he exclaimed. "But I can't complain of the change; may I offer you a chair, Miss Ransom?"
Marianne sat down. Mr. MacGregor must be the newest applicant for the position of tutor, she decided.
She took an immediate liking to him. He was a tall young man with an open, freckled face. One of his front teeth was chipped, giving his smile a boyish, lopsided charm. His speech was educated, with just a trace of Scottish burr.
"What was that all about?" she asked, nodding at the door through which Carlton had disappeared.
"I cannot imagine. We were talking about this and that, when all at once he bounded up and rushed away. I take it he is not always so impulsive? It is an attractive quality in itself, but I should think it would be a disadvantage in a man of the law."
His eyes twinkled with such frank amusement that Marianne could not help smiling. "I take it," she said, "that you are the new tutor."
"I hope I may be. The position appeals to me very much. My home is in Sterling, only an hour's ride away, and I have a widowed mother who would like to have me so close. Also, I find the Duke a most appealing little chap. There is a good brain there; it would be a challenge to work with it."
Marianne liked him more and more. The enthusiasm glowing in his eyes was that of a dedicated teacher.
"You know of His Grace's – difficulty?" she inquired.
"Yes, the Duchess was very candid with me. It merely makes me more eager to take the position. Epilepsy is a much misunderstood illness. I was a medical student before I turned to teaching, so I feel I can be of help there."
"Why did you give it up? It is a noble profession."
"Healing the body? Certainly! But healing the mind, developing its gifts, is surely just as important. Besides," he added, with a grin, "I had no aptitude for medicine. Every time a knife cut into human flesh, living or not, I fainted dead away. It got to be a joke, and my fellow students enjoyed dragging me out of the room by my heels, but the professors began to be irritated by my crashing down unconscious in the middle of their demonstrations. So I gave it up."
Marianne was enjoying the conversation, and would have gone on with it, had not the ringing of the luncheon bell reminded her of the time.
"Are you joining us for lunch?" she asked.
"No, I thank you." MacGregor rose. "I have a cold ride ahead of me, and the weather threatens. I hope we may meet again, Miss Ransom."
"I hope so too," Marianne said sincerely.
She went in to luncheon and immediately demanded of Carlton what Mr. MacGregor's prospects were. "I liked him very much," she declared. "I think he would be good for Henry."
"Do you indeed," said Carlton, with a malevolent look. "You favor freckles and a Scottish burr, then?"
"I was not speaking of his personal attributes," Marianne said in a dignified manner. "But of his qualifications for the post."
"The Duchess was most impressed with him," Dr. Gruffstone said, forestalling another rude comment from the lawyer.
His efforts to keep the conversation pleasant were in vain, however. Carlton was in a perverse mood and kept interjecting remarks that seemed designed to be inflammatory. He contradicted almost everything that was said, and found matter for insult in the most innocuous subjects. He even provoked the doctor by derogatory remarks about his profession.
"After all," he said, at one point, "it has been a good many years since you qualified, doctor. 'Thirty-eight, was it not?"
"You mean to make me an old fogy, do you," said the doctor, with perfect good humor. "No, no, my lad; 'forty-five was the year. A long time, but not so long as you would have."
"Where did you study?" Carlton asked.
The doctor looked surprised at his inquisitorial tone, but replied readily enough, "I took my degree in London, after studying for several years in Edinburgh."
"Ah, Edinburgh."
"A beautiful city," the doctor said reminiscently.
"With such wonderful people. Major Weird, Deacon Brodie, Burke and Hare…"
"Come now," the doctor protested. "Is that how the legal mind operates? To define a charming old city in terms of the murderers who plied their trade there? If so, I am glad I think otherwise."
"But Burke and Hare were in your own profession, Doctor," said Carlton, leaning back in his chair.
This sally finally pierced the doctor's armor. "What an outrageous thing to say!"
"Well, at least their friend Dr. Knox was. He bought the bodies from them." Carlton closed his eyes and began to chant,
" 'Up the close and doun the stair, But and ben wi' Burke and Hare. Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief, Knox the boy that buys the beef.' "
"Knox was never charged," said the doctor, red as a turkeycock. "The whole dreadful situation would never have arisen had it not been for the antiquated laws forbidding medical students to obtain cadavers for dissection. How can a surgeon possibly learn -"
"What?" Marianne exclaimed in disgust. The sense of the discussion had finally become clear to her. "Surely, gentlemen, this is not a suitable subject for luncheon conversation."
"I quite agree, Miss Ransom," the doctor said. "And I beg your pardon for my part in it."
"But wouldn't you think Dr. Knox might have noticed that some of the corpses were still warm when they were delivered to him?" Carlton inquired sweetly.
Marianne made a protesting sound and fled from the room, followed by the doctor's indignant response.
During the afternoon the snow began. Delicate, fragile white flakes drifted against the windowpanes and danced in the wind. Marianne took a book and went to the rose parlor, which was the most cheerful room in the bleak old place on such a day. Tired after a hard morning's exercise and a disturbed day, she was drowsing over the pages of Carlyle's French Revolution when the butler announced a caller.
"Mr. St. John, miss."
Marianne rose and tried to smooth her hair.
"I am afraid I woke you," the vicar said, advancing with outstretched hand.
"I am glad you did. I ought to have been improving my mind instead of dozing. The Duchess is in her room, Mr. St. John; shall I ring and -"
"I asked to see you. You do not mind?" Still holding her hand, he stood so close that with her disadvantage of height Marianne had to crane her neck at an uncomfortable angle in order to meet his eyes. He appeared very serious.
"No, no, of course… I am happy to see you. Would you care for tea, or sherry, or-"
She made as if to tug on the bellpull. St. John forestalled her.
"I want nothing, except your attention. I did intend to pay Her Grace a pastoral visit, but I was denied. Is it true that she is sinking fast?"
"Who told you that?"
"Gruffstone and Carlton." The vicar smiled faintly. "Two faithful dragons, guarding her door. Faithful, but oh, how terribly, tragically misled! Now of all times does she need the consolation only I – that is, only my Master, through me, His humble servant – can give."