“But he can prove me guilty as it is! And do you think for a moment he would let me go?”
“Will ye trust me, Miss?”
“Of course, Sam.”
“Ye promise?”
“Yes; if you won’t keep me from going?”
“Then ye’ve promised! Now listen, for we’ll maybe no’ get another chance to arrange it. At seven o’clock to-night ye’ll ha’ your bag and things ready, and ye’ll come down the stair, wi’ neither fear nor trembling, and ye’ll open the door, and ye’ll find me waiting wi’ a cart—”
“But, Sam, Sam—”
“And if your uncle or your aunt asks where ye’re going, answer the truth. But if they try to stop ye, leave them to me. That’s all. If ye canna trust me—”
“Oh, but I will—I do!” she cried, “though I don’t understand—”
“Then it’s settled, and I just hope I’m no’ doing a bad thing for ye in helping ye. . . . And now the folk’ll be wondering what’s come over their letters.”