hope took root.
"You mean she didn't fool you?"
"I saw her kick the old man. To make him back up her story. She scares him. Why would he be afraid of her if she was a good person? That kick was vicious. What's she got on him, do you think?"
I threw the straw aside and sat up.
"It could be lots of things. Tam—he's kind and I love him, but he's weak and easily scared. He's always in trouble. She'd only have to threaten him with the law over a debt or something, and he'd not be able to stand up to her."
He cleared his throat.
"It wasn't just the kick. When you told us your story, it came out different. It was hard for you to tell. I thought you were brave, the way you decided not to hide things from us. That girl was all smooth and clever. Everything about her felt wrong to me."
I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, but if I had, he'd have bolted out of the barn and up onto the moor like a startled deer.
"Ritchie, you've no idea! Just to know that you believe me!"
"I do, Maggie, and I always will."
There was a quiet steadiness in his voice that warmed me through. I looked at my shy cousin, with his square Blair features and direct blue eyes, as if I was seeing him for the first time.
"But she's convinced my father," he went on. He saw the distress in my face and said quickly, "No, not that. It's not that he doubts you. But he believes in the girl's repentance. You know what he's like, Maggie. He's thrilled to see a sinner return to the Lord and seek forgiveness in such a dramatic way, like a story in the Bible."
"He'll never make me say I forgive her!" I said fiercely. "How can I, when she's not a bit sorry for anything she's done and hasn't confessed to the half of it? She tried to murder us, Ritchie, Granny and me. And what's she done with her baby?"
"There'll be time enough to find out," Ritchie said, standing up and turning to look out of the barn toward the house. "My father's said she may stay with us while he finds her work on a farm near here."
"He'll be sorry," I said, and snorted. "He might as well take in a poisonous snake."
Across the courtyard, the door of the house opened.
"Ritchie, are you there?" called Martha. "Mam says you're to come in for the evening worship. Where's Maggie?"
Ritchie put out his work-hardened hand to pull me to my feet.
"We'd best go inside. Put a brave face on it, Maggie. You know my father. Once he has an idea in his head, there's no use trying to shift him. If he's decided to trust that girl, he won't be swayed."
I tried, in the short distance from the barn to the house, to pick the wisps of hay off my gown and smooth back my hair, knowing how much my aunt disliked untidiness. But when I saw the family, sitting around the cleared table with the Bible already open in front of my uncle, I knew I'd wasted my efforts. Annie had used the time well. She was sitting in the privileged position beside Aunt Blair, rocking Andrew in her arms, while Nanny leaned against her side, sucking her thumb contentedly. Tam had retreated to a stool by the fire and looked up at me with his eyes full of misery and apology. Grizel stood beside him, frowning, her arms crossed on her chest. She gave me a grim little nod, as if to tell me that she, for one, hadn't fallen under Annie's spell. Martha still hovered by the door.
Uncle Blair looked at me gravely as I slipped into my usual place on the bench, with my back to the wall.
"Come here, you dear little thing," Annie cooed to Martha, "and sit by me."
But Martha scrambled onto the bench beside me, cramming herself against me and flinching from Annie's outstretched hand. Uncle Blair frowned, not liking a display of feeling at prayer time.
"From the Gospel according to Luke," he said, and began to read. "'What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. I