Part 13 (2/2)

”It's just a bit letter for you,” and he dived into his pocket and produced a packet.

I took it hastily, for I had some guess who was the writer. Nor was I wrong, for one glance at the superscription told me the truth. And this is how it ran:

”_For Master John Burnet in the house of Mistress Vanderdecker near the Breedestraat, at Leyden_.

”DEAR JOHN: I have not written thee for long, and I trust that thereby I have not given thee trouble. I am well and happy, when this leaves me, though desiring thy return. I trust your studies are to your satisfaction. Tam Todd, from the Barns, was over yestreen, and gave a good account of all things there.”

Then came a pause, and the writing was resumed in a hurried, irregular hand.

”I am not free to write my will. O John, dear John, come back to me. I am so unhappy. I cannot survive without thee another day” (this latter word had been scored out and _month_ put in its place). ”I am in dreadful perplexity. Come quick.

”MARJORY.”

You may imagine into what state of mind the reading of this letter threw me. My lady was in trouble, that was enough for me, and she desired my aid. I guessed that the letter had been written stealthily and that some trouble had been found in its conveyance, for it bore the marks of much crumpling and haste. I could make no conjecture as to its meaning, and this doubt only the more increased my impatience.

”From whom did you get this?” I asked.

”From a great, thin, swart man, who brought it to me at Leith, and bade me deliver it. I came post haste from Rotterdam this day.”

I ran over in my mind the serving-folk at Dawyck, and could think of none such. Then, like a flash, I remembered Tam Todd. This doubly increased my fears. If Marjory could get no porter for her message save one of my own servants, then the trouble must be at Dawyck itself.

I can find no words for the depths of my anxiety. To think of Marjory in sorrow and myself separated by leagues of land and sea well-nigh drove me distracted. There and then I resolved on my course.

”Your s.h.i.+p is at Rotterdam?” I asked.

”Yes,” said the captain.

”When does she sail?”

”To-morrow night, when the cargo is on board.”

”I'll give you twenty pieces of gold if you'll sail to-night.”

The captain shook his head. ”It canna be done,” he cried; ”my freight is lace and schiedam, worth four times twenty pieces, and I canna have a voyage for naething.”

”Listen,” said I, ”I am in terrible perplexity. I would give you a hundred, if I had them; but I promise you, if you bring me safely to the port of Leith, they shall be paid. Ride back to your vessel and s.h.i.+p all the stuff you can, and I will be with you at eleven o'clock this night, ready to sail.”

The fellow shook his head, but said nothing.

”Man, man,” I cried, ”for G.o.d's sake, I implore you. It's a matter to me of desperate import. See, there are your twenty pieces, and I'll give you my bond for eighty, to be paid when we win to Leith.”

”Tut, Master Burnet,” said he, ”I will not be taking your money. But I'm wae to see you in trouble. I'll take you over the nicht for the twenty pieces, and if I lose on the venture, you can make it up to me.

It's safer carrying you and running straight for the pier, than carrying schiedam and dodging about the Ba.s.s. And I'm not a man that need count his pennies. Forbye, I see there's a lady in the case, and I deem it my duty to a.s.sist you.”

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