"So I will, if I can."
"We were going abroad in a few days. I don't know where, exactly: they won't tell me. They are angry with me, Janetta, and I can't bear it," cried Margaret, breaking suddenly into tears which were evidently very heartfelt, although they did not disfigure that fair and placid face of hers in the slightest degree; "they were never angry with me before, and it is terrible. They may take me away and keep me away for years, and I don't know what to do. The only thing I can think of is to ask you to help me. I want to send a message to Wyvis—I want to write to him if you will give him the letter."
"But why do you not write him through the post?"
"Oh, because I promised not to post anything to him. Mamma said she must supervise my correspondence unless I promised not to write to him. And so I keep my word—but a few lines through you, Janet, darling, would not be breaking my word at all, for it would not be a letter exactly. And I want to arrange when I can see him again."
Janetta drew back a little. "It would be breaking the spirit of your promise, Margaret. No, I cannot help you to do that."
"Oh, Janetta, you would never be so hard as to refuse me! I only want to tell Wyvis that I am true to him, and that I don't mind what the world says one bit, because I know how people tell lies about him! You know you always promised to stand by me and to be my best friend."
"Yes, but I never promised to do a dishonorable action for you," said Janetta, steadily.
Margaret started up, her face a-flame directly.
"How dare you say such a thing to me, Janetta?" she exclaimed.
"I cannot help it, Margaret, you know that I am right."