Before the Door of a Low, Thatched Hut Stood a Fair-haired Young Woman
“Margaret,” he exclaimed, as they turned and began to climb the hill to the hut, “I should not have brought you here!”
“Oh!” she cried. “More than anything else I desired the privilege of helping you in your work. Do you mean that I have failed? That I have proved a burden rather than a help?”
“You know it is not that,” he replied quickly. “You have been wonderful, dear. But I should not have allowed you to leave old Scotland for the hardships and perils of these heathen isles.”
“It has not been easy,” she acknowledged; “but I have never once regretted coming.”
“I thought I was doing right to bring you,” he went on; “but now—now—”
“You feel,” she interposed, “that we are in real danger?”
“We shall be if the natives rise,” he replied. “I think you should know the truth, dear.”