And I
think you will find a balance on the right side. God speed you, Mr.
Garvald. I love your sober folly."
* * * * *
I had scarcely left him when I met a servant of the Blairs, who handed
me a letter. 'Twas from Elspeth--the first she had ever written me. I
tore it open, and found a very disquieting epistle. Clearly she had
written it in a white heat of feeling. "_You spoke finely of
reverence_," she wrote, "_and how you had never named my name to a
mortal soul. But to-night you have put me to open shame. You have
offered yourself for a service which I did not seek. What care I for
his Excellency's gifts? Shall it be said that I was the means of
sending a man into deadly danger to secure me a foolish estate? You
have offended me grossly, and I pray you spare me further offence, I
command you to give up this journey. I will not have my name bandied
about in this land as a wanton who sets silly youth by the ears to
gratify her pride. If you desire to retain a shred of my friendship, go
to his Excellency and tell him that by my orders you withdraw from the
wager."_
This letter did not cloud my spirits as it should. For one thing, she
signed it "Elspeth," and for another, I had the conceited notion that
what moved her most was the thought that I was running into danger.
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