"----escaped," I continued, still my eyes on hers, "with a trifle of
money, but minus my heart. I write this to the fair daughter of Britain
who has it in her keeping. And now what have you to say?"

"Ah, well," she mused, "the Lord's ways be past finding out. It may be
the easier for you."

Apparently it was the habit of this ship's company to speak in enigmas.
I caught up my pen again:

"... the coast of Massachusetts, in the United States of America,
whence I hope to make my way in good time to France. Though you have
news, dearest, I fear none can reach me for a while. Yet, and though
you have no more to write than 'I love you, Anne,' write it, and
commit it to Mr. Robbie, who will forward it to Mr. Romaine, who in
turn may find a means to get it smuggled through to Paris, Rue du
Fouarre, 16. It should be consigned to the widow Jupille, 'to be
called for by the corporal who praised her _vin blanc_.' She will
remember; and in truth a man who had the courage to praise it
deserves remembrance as singular among the levies of France. Should a
youth of the name of Rowley present himself before you, you may trust
his fidelity absolutely, his sagacity not at all. And so (since the
boat waits to take this) I kiss the name of Flora, and subscribe
myself--until I come to claim her, and afterwards to eternity--her
_prisoner_.

"ANNE."

I had, in fact, a second reason for abbreviating this letter and sealing
it in a hurry. The movements of the brig, though slight, were
perceptible, and in the close air of the main cabin my head already
began to swim. I hastened on deck in time to shake hands with my
companions and confide the letter to Byfield with instructions for
posting it. "And if your share in our adventure should come into public
question," said I, "you must apply to a Major Chevenix, now quartered in
Edinburgh Castle, who has a fair inkling of the facts, and as a man of
honour will not decline to assist you. You have Dalmahoy, too, to back
your assertion that you knew me only as Mr. Ducie." Upon Dalmahoy I
pressed a note for his and Mr. Sheepshanks's travelling expenses. "My
dear fellow," he protested, "I couldn't _dream_ ... if you are sure it
won't inconvenience ... merely as a loan ... and deuced handsome of you,
I will say." He kept the cutter waiting while he drew an I.O.U., in
which I figured as Bursar and Almoner (_honoris causa_) to the Senatus
Academicus o