“SawmuelBishopriggs，“hewenton，glibly。“Careo’DavieDow，flesher；Cowgate；Embro。MyPatmosintheweelderness，miss，forthetimebeing。“
Blanchereceivedtheaddresswithasenseofunspeakablerelief。
IfshehadoncemoreventuredontakingSirPatrick’splace，andoncemorefailedinjustifyingherrashnessbytheresults，shehadatleastgainedsomeatoningadvantage，thistime，byopeningameansofcommunicationbetweenheruncleandBishopriggs。“YouwillhearfromSirPatrick，“shesaid，andnoddedkindly，andreturnedtoherplaceamongtheguests。
“I’llhearfromSirPaitrick，wullI？“repeatedBishopriggswhenhewasleftbyhimself。“SirPaitrickwillwarknaethinglessthanameeracleifhefindsSawmuelBishopriggsattheCowgate，Embro!“
Helaughedsoftlyoverhisowncleverness；andwithdrewtoalonelyplaceintheplantation，inwhichhecouldconsultthestolencorrespondencewithoutfearofbeingobservedbyanylivingcreature。Oncemorethetruthhadtriedtostruggleintolight，beforethedayofthemarriage，andoncemoreBlanchehadinnocentlyhelpedthedarknesstokeepitfromview。