lder
and in the purest interests of the absent Mr. Thomas Gallaberry.

But the relief to my own mind, in spite of the hurt to my pride, was
immediate and enormous. But a thought leaped up in my heart which cooled
me considerably.

"Oh, Lottie," I said, as sadly as I could, "you have been false and
deceitful. You have come near to breaking my heart----"

"I ken I have--I ken I have!" she cried. "Oh, can you ever forgive me?"

"Only, Charlotte," I answered nobly, "because I care for your happiness
more than for my own!"

"Oh, Duncan, but you are good!" She threw herself into my arms. I really
think she mistook me for Agnes Anne for the moment. But any consolations
I applied were, as before, in the interests of Tam Gallaberry.

"I knew I was wicked and wrong all the time," she said, "but when we
walked out, you remember the dyke we used to lean against" (she glanced
up at me with simple child-like eyes, tear-stained), "you must remember?
Well, one of the stones was loose. And Tam used to put one letter there,
and I took it out and slid it in my pocket, and put mine back the same!
Agnes Anne was looking the other way, of course, and you--you----"

"Was otherwise employed than thinking of such deceit!" I said grandly.

"You were kissing me! And I let you--for Tam's sake," Charlotte
murmured, smiling. "Otherwise the poor fellow would have had five miles
to come that next day, and I could not bear that he should not find his
letter!"

"No!" I answered dryly, "it would certainly have been a pity."

She looked at me curiously.

"Do you know," she said, "I always thought that _you_ were playing,
too!"

"Playing!" I exclaimed tragically. "Is it possible? Oh, Lottie!"

"Oh, I just thought it," she said remorsefully. "I am sorry if it was
true--if you do really care about me so much--as all that!"

I was still thinking of Tam Gallaberry. So apparently was she.

Virtue is its own reward, and so is mutual consolation. It is very
consoling. Half the happy love stories in the world begin that way--just
with telling about the unhappy ones that went before. You take my word
for it--I, Duncan MacAlpine, know what I am talking about. Charlotte
Anderson too.

So finally, after a while, I became very noble and said what a fine
thing it was to give up something very precious for others. And I asked
her if she could think of anything much nobler than willingly to give up
as fine a girl as herself--Charlotte Anderson--for the