Don't worry about me, Angus!" He stooped and picked up Charlie, who, since his master's death, had been very dispirited.
"You see, Mary," he said, as he fondled the little dog and stroked its silky hair--"nothing will alter the fact that you are richer than I am.
You do regular work for which you get regular pay--now I have no settled work at all, and not much chance of pay, even for the book on which I've been spending nearly a year of my time.

You've got a house which you can keep going--and very soon I shall not be able to afford so much as a room!--think of that! And yet--I have the impertinence to ask you to marry me! Forgive me, dear! It is, as you say, better to wait." She came and entwined her arms about him.
"I'll wait a month," she said--"No longer, Angus! By that time, if you don't marry me, I shall summons you for breach of promise!" She smiled--but he still remained thoughtful.
"Angus!" she said suddenly--"I want to tell you--I shall have to go away from Weircombe for a day--perhaps two days." He looked surprised.
"Go away!" he echoed.

"What for?
Where to ?" She told him then of "old David's" last request to her, and of the duty she had undertaken to perform.
He listened gravely.
"You must do it, of course," he said.

"But will you have to travel far ?" "Some distance from Weircombe," she answered, evasively.
"May I not go with you ?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"I promised----" she began.
"And you shall not break your word," he said, kissing her.

"You are so true, my Mary, that I wouldn't tempt you to change one word or even half a word of what you have said to any one, living or dead.