He gave her a long look. “Will ye no’ think over it, Miss?” he asked at last.
“I’m going to-night. Can’t you imagine what life here, with those people, must be?”
“Aye,” he said slowly. “No’ to be endured, I dare say. But—”—he became timid—“I mun ask ye a question, Miss, whether it offends ye or no. It—it’s about young Mr. Hayward. Ye’re no’ running away wi’ him, are ye?”
Once more she laughed. “I had forgotten all about him,” she said truthfully. “What a question to ask!” Then she flushed a little.
He looked abashed as he murmured—
“Young folks do stupid things in haste, and it was for both your sakes I asked the question. Well, well,” he went on, “if your mind’s made up, I suppose I canna change it.”
“And you’ll see about a cart, Sam?” she said eagerly.
“No, I’ll no’ do that!”
“Because when ye leave your uncle’s house, when ye leave Dunford, ye mun leave wi’ your head high and your name fair. Think, Miss! What’ll it mean if ye creep away as if—as if ye was guilty? Why, it would mean that your uncle would be free to make a scandal, aye, and maybe do something worse—”