This question was settled for her as she stood listening and uncertain, by the sound of Kirsteen’s return. Marg’ret listened eagerly while she came down stairs again step by step. She came into the kitchen with the same vague deprecating smile upon her face. She had a little Testament in its blue boards in her hand. She said nothing, but opening it held out to her faithful adviser the fly-leaf upon which there stood the initials together of R. D. and C. D., connected with the feeble pencilling of the runic knot. Kirsteen said not a word, but held it out open, pointing to this simple symbol with her other hand. “R. D.,” said Marg’ret, “wha’ is that? C. D., that will just stand for yourself. It’s not one of Robbie’s books--it’s--it’s--Oh!” she cried with sudden enlightenment, “now I understand!” Kirsteen put the little page solemnly to her trembling lips, a tear almost dropped upon it, but she shut the book quickly that no stain should come upon it, even of a tear. She did not say a word during this little tender revelation of her heart, but turned her eyes and her faint propitiatory smile to Marg’ret as if there was no more to be said. “And this has been in your heart all the time!” cried Marg’ret, drying her eyes with her apron. “I thought of that, twa-three times. There was something in his look yon day he gaed away, but I never said a word, for who can tell? And this was in your heart a’ the time?” “He said, ‘Will ye wait till I come back?’ and I said, ‘That I will!’” said Kirsteen, but very softly, the sweetness of the recollection coming back to soothe her in the midst of all the pain. “And that’s how they’ve tied their lives, thae young things!” said Marg’ret also with a kind of solemnity. “A word spoken that is done in a moment, and after that--a’ thae long and weary years--and maybe for all they ken never to see ilk ither again.” “And if it should be so,” said Kirsteen, “it would just be for death instead of life, and all the same.” “Oh, weel I ken that,” said Marg’ret shaking her head. She made a pause, and then she added hurriedly, “What’s to be done with you, lassie? If Glendochart’s coming the morn to mairry ye there’s no time to be lost.” “Marg’ret, I will just go away.” “Where will ye go to? It’s easy speaking: a creature like you cannot travel the country-side like a servant lass going to a new place. And ye’ve nae friends that will take such a charge. Miss Eelen would be frightened out of her wits. I know nobody that will help you but Glendochart himself--and you couldna go to him.” “What is that letter on the table, Marg’ret, and who is it from?” “The letter? What’s in the letter? Can ye think of that at sic a moment? It’s a letter from my sister Jean.” “Marg’ret, that’s just where I am going! I see it all in a flash like lightning. I am going to London to your sister Jean.” “The bairn is clean out of her senses!” cried Marg’ret almost with a scream.