A look in her face suggested to him that she might, in her heart, suspect what he had in his mind. He would make sure.
‘I suppose I dare not delay this for a day or two?’ he said, tentatively, looking from her to the letter.
‘Oh, no! no!’ she cried, in alarm. ‘Oh! what would happen if anyone found out that I had told you?’
‘I am only joking,’ he laughed, much relieved, ‘pray, pray don’t upset yourself, ma’am.’
‘I really do not know whether I have not done sadly wrong in speaking,’ said she, turning her eyes down. ‘I have many scruples. My name must never, never be mentioned.’
‘You insult me, Mrs. Somerville, when you talk in that way. Your name is sacred to me, as it has ever been, and your action is most timely, most obliging. I only regret that your own wishes forbid my telling Fordyce of your kind interest in him—in us, I should say, for I identify myself with my friends. I am nothing if not true. You, surely, of all people can give me that character.’
‘Come, come,’ she said, ‘you may go away. I shall not tell you what I think for fear of making you vain!’
Barclay left the house with the precious letter in his pocket; he had come out that afternoon, with no intention of going anywhere near Fullarton. On reaching his own front-door he banged it so heartily with the knocker that his maidservant felt her heart thump too. She came running to answer the summons.
‘Order round the chaise immediately,’ he cried, ‘and see that the fire is kept in till I come back!’