“I only want you to quiet yourself, and when you are calmer, to think over what I have said.”

“Said?” She paused⁠—twisted the cloth in her hands, backwards and forwards, and whispered to herself, “What is it he said?” She turned again towards me, and shook her head impatiently. “Why don’t you help me?” she asked, with angry suddenness.

“Yes, yes,” I said, “I will help you, and you will soon remember. I ask you to see Miss Fairlie tomorrow and to tell her the truth about the letter.”

“Ah! Miss Fairlie⁠—Fairlie⁠—Fairlie⁠—”

The mere utterance of the loved familiar name seemed to quiet her. Her face softened and grew like itself again.