She would not have comprehended that a man should admire her, and tell her
that he loved her, unless he intended to make her his wife.

And Allan was not prepared to admit this conclusion to the intercourse
which had been so sweet, so inexpressibly sweet. He knew that her simple
presence was a joy to him. He could see that her shining eyes grew
brighter at his approach, and that her face broke up like happy music as
he talked to her. "She is the other half of my own soul," he said, "and my
life can never be complete without her. But what a mockery of Fate to
bring us together. I cannot fall to her station; I cannot raise her to
mine. I ought to go away, and I will. In a little while she will forget
me."

The thought angered and troubled him; he tossed restlessly to and fro
Until daybreak, and then fell into a heavy slumber. And he dreamed of Mary
Campbell. His heart was full of Maggie, but he dreamed of Mary; and he
wondered at the circumstance, and though he was hardly conscious of the
fact, it made him a trifle cooler and more restrained in his intercourse
with Maggie. And Maggie thought of her bad temper the previous night, and
she was ashamed and miserable.

At irregular intervals, as occasion served, he had gone into Edinburgh,
and when there, he had always made an opportunity for writing to Meriton.
Mary therefore concluded that he was staying in Edinburgh, and John
Campbell did not fret much over the absence of a son who could be recalled
easily in a few hours. He understood that Allan was in correspondence with
his Cousin Mary, and he would not admit a doubt of the final settlement of
the Drumloch succession in the way he desired.