"I am not free to write my will. O John, dear John, come back to me. I am so unhappy. I cannot survive without thee another day" (this latter word had been scored out and month put in its place). "I am in dreadful perplexity. Come quick.
"MARJORY."
You may imagine into what state of mind the reading of this letter threw me. My lady was in trouble, that was enough for me, and she desired my aid. I guessed that the letter had been written stealthily and that some trouble had been found in its conveyance, for it bore the marks of much crumpling and haste. I could make no conjecture as to its meaning, and this doubt only the more increased my impatience.
"From whom did you get this?" I asked.
"From a great, thin, swart man, who brought it to me at Leith, and bade me deliver it. I came post haste from Rotterdam this day."
I ran over in my mind the serving-folk at Dawyck, and could think of none such. Then, like a flash, I remembered Tam Todd. This doubly increased my fears. If Marjory could get no porter for her message save one of my own servants, then the trouble must be at Dawyck itself.
I can find no words for the depths of my anxiety. To think of Marjory in sorrow and myself separated by leagues of land and sea well-nigh drove me distracted. There and then I resolved on my course.
"Your ship is at Rotterdam?" I asked.
"Yes," said the captain.
"When does she sail?"