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lady such.”
    Allan did not want to have this conversation in full view of his entire family, but he saw no other way. “I love her,” he said quietly, “and she loves me. It would have been cruel to say nothing--”
    “I know the love you two have had,” Sandy said, his voice softer. “And if things had turned differently with Campbell...” he shook his head. “But what has been said already must be left as such. You know the agreement made.”
    “I know what he wanted,” Allan corrected stiffly, “but I had myself--and Harriet--to consider.”
    Sandy shook his head. “David Campbell is her father, Allan, and as such must be respect. Besides, think of it, lad. Would you want to see Harriet old and withered, with no child or husband of her own?”
    The image chilled him and he shook his head in vehement denial. “I'll be her husband!”
    “You can't be sure of that.” Sandy glanced somberly at each member of his family in turn. “None of us can be sure of anything, or whether we'll all sit like this in one room again. It is for God alone to know such things, and for us to trust.”
    A solemn silence descended upon the room as they all glanced round at each other's faces, as if memorising the familiar, beloved features.
    “We'll talk in private.” Sandy stood abruptly and left Allan to follow him downstairs to the inn’s taproom, and then out into the damp, chilly night.
    The wind off the sea caused both men to turn up the collars of their coats and hunch their shoulders against its chill. Although it was midsummer, it had been a cold summer and was sure to be a bad harvest, and at that moment Allan felt a bone-deep iciness within him, as he felt his dreams of the future slipping beyond his reach yet again.
    “I know what you and Harriet have is a thing apart,” Sandy said after a moment. “Not everyone has it--not everyone gets to have a love like that.” He turned to face his son, his expression sad. “I'm sorry it has to be like this. If David Campbell had said yes to your suit, you could have been married by now, Harriet with us.”
    Frustration bubbled inside him and Allan sought to keep his voice level. “I know that well.”
    “But Providence saw otherwise,” Sandy continued staunchly. “And we must trust all these things to the hand of God. And it is as well for it to be so, for Harriet has her own responsibilities. She does not bear a light burden.”
    Guilt piled on top of his frustration and Allan turned away. “I’ve known that also, Father.”
    “Then why increase it? Her obligation to you is as sure a fetter as any--”
    “I appreciate your view,” Allan interrupted as calmly as he could, “but as you said, Harriet and I have a thing apart. If I’d gone without speaking to her, without declaring my own intentions, it would have been far worse a fetter.”
    Sandy was silent for a moment. “Perhaps, but one of her own making, not yours. Eventually she might have forgotten you...”
    “And that is a better thing?” Allan said, incredulity lacing every word. “We love each other, Father. We want to marry! Neither of us have ever looked at another, not once, I know it. And when I’m established in the new world--”
    “God willing, that won’t be long,” Sandy agreed, his calm tone making Allan feel like an unruly schoolboy. “Perhaps you will be able to send back for her, at the same time as I send for Rupert and Margaret. If Providence wills it, we’ll all be together in two years’ time.”
    “Then why all this talk of not telling her, and setting her free?” Allan demanded. “I see no dishonour in my actions, Father, I swear I don’t.”
    Sandy shook his head. “Because her father asked it of you, Allan, and you must respect a man’s word. And because there are no certainties in this life. We might not see through this winter, much less two years.” He put a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “Set her free, Allan,” Sandy said softly. “If you love her, if