"
"Well, father, I have promised to go, and a McAllister never breaks his
word."
"What! you are determined? You persist in your selfish course of folly?
You will go in spite of all I say?"
"Yes, father, I must go, my word is pledged."
The McAllister's ruddy face grew white with anger, he clenched his hands
as if he would strike his son and by main force reduce him to obedience,
then with a great effort he controlled his anger and said in an ominously
calm voice: "Then, Ivan McAllister, I tell ye, never mair shall ye set
foot in this house, at least, when I am above ground; never mair call
yourself son of mine, and may----" raising his right hand solemnly as
if invoking supernatural aid.
But here he was interrupted by a gentle voice which said:
"Nay, nay, Nowell, ye shall not curse your son," and a soft hand was laid
on his upraised arm.
The McAllister paused and turned towards the speaker, a gentler
expression coming over his stern face, for Lady Jean had the greatest
influence over her husband, an influence which was always for good.
She was a tall, slightly built woman of some fifty-eight years of age.
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