met. He tells me that nothing is done for me; but it is
only that I may understand how much more is done for you.
Next to me,--yes, Mary, next to myself, he should be the
dearest to you of human beings. I am jealous already,
almost jealous of his goodness. Would that I could look
forward to a life in which I would be regarded as his
friend.

Let me have a line from you to say that it is as I would
wish it, and name a day in which I may come to visit you.
I shall now remain in London only to obey your behests. As
to my future life, I can settle nothing till I can discuss
it with you, as it will be your life also. God bless you,
my own one.--Yours affectionately,

JOHN GORDON.

We are not to return to the diamond-fields. I have
promised Mr Whittlestaff that it shall be so.

Mary, when she received this letter, retired into her own room to
read it. For indeed her life in public,--her life, that is, to which
Mrs Baggett had access,--had been in some degree disturbed since the
departure of the master of the house. Mrs Baggett certainly proved
herself to be a most unreasonable old woman. She praised Mary Lawrie
up to the sky as being the only woman fitted to be her master's wife,
at the same time abusing Mary for driving her out of the house were
the marriage to take place; and then abusing her also because Mr
Whittlestaff had gone to town to look up another lover on Mary's
behalf. "It isn't my fault; I did not send him," said Mary.

"You could make his going of no account. You needn't have the young
man when he comes back. He has come here, disturbing us all with his
diamonds, in a most objectionable manner."

"You would be able to remain here and not have to go away with that
dreadfully drunken old man." This Mary had said, because there had
been rather a violent scene with the one-legged hero in the stable.

"What's that to do with it? Baggett ain't the worst man in the world
by any means. If he was a little cross last night, he ain't so
always. You'd be cross yourself, Miss, if you didn't get straw enough
under you to take off the hardness of the stones."

"But you would go and live with him."

"Ain't he my husband! Why shouldn't a woman live with her husband?
And what does it matter where I live, or how. You ain't going to
marry John Gordon, I know, to save me from Timothy Baggett!" Then
the letter had come--the letter from Mary's lover; and Mary retired
to her