sake of Tam
Gallaberry? She thought awhile and said she could not.

So I told her we must keep up appearances for a time, till we had made
our arrangements what to do. Charlotte said that she had no objections
as long as Tam Gallaberry did not know. So I said that she could write a
long letter that very night, and give it to Agnes Anne in the morning,
and I would go out to the stone, and put it underneath.

Then she cried, "Oh, will you?" And thanked me ever so sweetly, asking
if, when I was about it, would I bring back the one I found there and
send it to her by my sister, in another envelope--"just over the top,
you know, without breaking the seal. Because such letters were sacred."

I said she need not trouble herself. I was only doing all this for her
sake. I did not want to see what another man had to say to her!

And, if you will believe me, she was delighted, and said, "Now I know
that you were not all pretending, but do care for me a little wee bit!"

Indeed, Charlotte was so delighted that it was perhaps as well for the
smooth flowing of their love story that Tam Gallaberry was at that
moment investigating their joint post office. For Lottie was a generous
girl when her heart was moved, and though she kept the grand issues
clear, she often confused details--as, for instance, whether the
handkerchief was mine or my sister's, and whether I was myself or Tam
Gallaberry.

But I considered such slips as these pardonable at twenty. At that age
forgetfulness is easy. Afterwards the prison doors close, and now I am
not mistaken for Tam Gallaberry any more--and what is more, I don't want
to be. However, after a while I brought Charlotte to earth again, out of
the exaltation of our mutual self-sacrifice, by the reminder that at
that moment our fathers would be arranging as to our joint future--and
that without the least regard for our present noble sentiments, or those
of the happily absent Mr. Thomas Gallaberry.

She got down and looked at me, affrighted, her lips apart, and all
panting like a bird newly ta'en in the hand.

"Oh, Duncan," she cried, "you will help me, won't you? You see how fond
I am of you!"

I saw, exactly, but refrained from telling her that she had a strange
way of showing it.

"I would do anything in the world for you," she added,--"only I want to
marry Tom. Ye see? I have always meant to marry Tom! So I can't help it,
can I?"

Her logic had holes in it, but her meaning was starry clear