Read Far Horizons for Free Online

husband if it comes to that.”
    “She won't!”
    “I pray not.” Allan folded the letter and after relighting the candle, sealed the paper with a daub of wax from its stub. “Give this to her, Margaret. I think I’ve explained it all, as best as I could. And tell her...” Allan paused, for there were so many things he’d wanted to say to Harriet, things he no longer had any right to say. “Tell her I will think of her every day, and pray for her safekeeping.”
    Margaret took the letter with reluctance. “Very well, Allan, if it's your wish.”
    “It is.” Allan reached into his coat pocket and took out a bundle of old letters, tied with a faded ribbon. Over the years, he and Harriet had written to each other, the letters going in the mail packet between Tobermory and Kilchoan. Although they'd been able to see each other often enough, those letters contained a sweetness, dreams and hopes shared on ink-splattered pages that could not be so easily confided in conversation. He'd kept the letters close to him, wanting to keep them safe on the long voyage... wanting to while away the long hours reading them, and needing the hope and encouragement they would provide. He would have to do without.
    “Give her these.” His face and heart both hardening with resolve, Allan handed the bundle to Margaret.
    She took it instinctively, then glanced down at the ribbon-wrapped parcel in surprise and dismay. “Allan! Her letters to you--why? Surely you should keep those! They're all you'll have of her.”
    “I give her my lines to show her she's free,” Allan said quietly. “Tell her she may keep mine.”
    Margaret shook her head sorrowfully. “You might be giving her freedom, Allan, but to Harriet, it won't feel that way.”
     
    “What's this?” Harriet took the bundle of letters from Margaret with a chill of foreboding. She knew only too well what they were. She recognized her own handwriting, as well as the hair ribbon she’d given Allan when he’d asked for it, years ago. She did not want to ask why Margaret was now handing this all back to her. She did not want to know.
    Margaret said nothing, merely placed her hand on top of Harriet's. They'd arrived several hours ago, and most of the time since then had been spent in organising the bedrooms and unpacking cases. Rupert had gone off with Ian, two boys intent on a summer afternoon’s pleasure. Harriet had watched them go with a worried frown, for she knew in summer her father expected Ian to help in the fields. He was fourteen, and certainly old enough to do his share, but he’d never been one for working with his hands. Then Margaret had given her this precious bundle and all thoughts of her brother flew from Harriet’s mind.
    Harriet led Margaret into the kitchen, with its wide hearth and scrubbed pine table. David Campbell would've been irritated to see a guest being entertained in the kitchen, but he was out checking on some lambing ewes. Harriet knew she need not rest on formality with Margaret. Although they'd seen each other infrequently over the years, a close friendship had sprung up between them.
    She sat at the table, the letters in her lap. “Why are you giving me these?”
    “Allan asked me to. He meant well, Harriet, I know he does. Writing to you near tore him apart. He was up all night...” Margaret trailed off, her eyes dark with compassion. “If you want some privacy, I understand. I can look after the noonday meal, if you like, with Eleanor.”
    “Thank you.” From somewhere Harriet found her voice, although her throat was so tight and aching she felt as it had closed up completely. She rose from the table, the letters clasped to her chest. “I'll be in the parlor. You're a true friend, Margaret.”
    Margaret gave her a fleeting, sorrowful look. “He told me to tell you he’d come back. He promised, Harriet.”
    Harriet, her throat so tight now she couldn’t speak at all, only nodded.
    Once in the quiet peace of the front parlor,