She said it was as clear as day to her. "And a solemn way it was," she
added, and then waited eagerly.

"My opinion," continued Corp, lowering his voice as if this were not
matter for the child, "is that it's a love-token frae some London
woman."

"Behear's!" cried Gavinia.

"Else what," he asked, "would make him hand it to me so solemn-like,
and tell me to pass it on to her if he was drowned? I didna think o'
that at the time, but it has come to me, Gavinia; it has come."

This was a mouthful indeed to Gavinia. So the glove was the property
of Mr. Sandys, and he was in love with a London lady, and--no, this is
too slow for Gavinia; she saw these things in passing, as one who
jumps from the top of a house may have lightning glimpses through many
windows on the way down. What she jumped to was the vital question,
Who was the woman?

But she was too cunning to ask a leading question.

"Ay, she's his lady-love," she said, controlling herself, "but I
forget her name. It was a very wise-like thing o' you to speir the
woman's name."

"But I didna."

"You didna!"