“You must write out an acknowledgment and sign your name to it,” she continued, her voice low and insistent. “It is an irregular marriage I know, but it will save me from my father’s wrath, when I can keep my plight from him no longer.” He still remained silent, his face hidden in his hands. “Will you do this?” she demanded anxiously, “or,” and her voice grew hard and threatening, “or shall I appeal to the Parish officers to help me save my good name from disgrace?” Quickly he raised his head. At his look of indignant scorn she winced and turned away, flushing angrily. With a mirthless little laugh he retorted with bitter emphasis, “Your good name, indeed!” She turned on him defiantly. “I was no worse than other girls,” she flippantly retorted. “Only more unfortunate. Will you do what I ask? Quick, tell me, someone is coming!” She nervously caught his hand. He did not speak. His face grew haggard and old-looking as he stood motionless, forming his resolution. It seemed to her an eternity before he answered her. “So be it,” he answered hoarsely, drawing his hand away from hers and moving slowly to the door. “I’ll send ye the lines by the posty to-morrow.” With a cry of delight she gratefully held out her hand to him. But he quietly opened the door, and, without a word or look at her, stood silently holding it back, his head bowed low on his bosom, his face cold and repellent. Slowly Jean walked past him out into the deepening twilight. She felt a dawning pity in her heart for the wretched lad. She could not quite forget those old, happy days, those stolen walks and trysts along the banks of the Ayr. No one could make love so ardently as he, she thought with a sigh. Of all her lovers he had been the favorite, he was so ingenuous, so trustful and confiding, and yet so reckless, so imprudent and weak. She knew well he had never really loved her, and the thought had made her strive all the harder to win him. He was flattered by her open preference for him, and soon became an easy victim, a slave, to her seductive charms and sophisticated fascinations, for he was only human. And now the heart of that little dairymaid would be broken. A quick pang of shame and regret stole over her, but she instantly stifled it. She must think of self first, she told herself uneasily. Anyway she only wanted the marriage lines in case people should point an accusing finger at her. Later—well, the marriage could be annulled privately, and no one be the wiser, for marriages were easily annulled in Scotland. She walked briskly to where the coach was standing, for they were waiting for her, determined to cast all gloomy, depressing thoughts from her for the time at least.