Lily, in memory, saw the smiling face of Mr. Cant, and minded how he’d been so kind that day at Colonel Graeme’s when he’d bought her kitten. Strange how life wove threads among the people that you met, and bound them into unforeseen designs.

She looked at Barbara. “What did happen to your bairn?”

“She didn’t live past her first month.” An old pain, spoken flatly.

“I am sorry.”

“Aye, well. Bairns are fragile things. And it was coming on to winter. ’Tis a time of sickness. But then two weeks later Mr. Cant did give me Matthew.” Barbara smiled. “Ye think he’s bonny now, ye should have seen him then. And it was in his nature from the start to always be exploring, never still. But he was good. I’d not have traded him for gold, and Archie kent it.”

Lily watched as Barbara’s smile straightened into an expression of more purpose, and the older woman sat more upright in her chair.

“The thing with Archie,” Barbara said, “is that he aye looks for a person’s weak side. He can’t help it, it’s the way that he was made. He might not ever have a call to use that knowledge, but he looks for it, and once he’s found it out, he keeps it close, just like a book upon his shelf, ye ken? And if he does have need of it, well, there it is and open for him.”

Lily was trying to follow, to take this all in. It was like overpainting a portrait and adding new color and depth to a face so it still was the person she knew, and yet seemed in some lights unfamiliar. She guessed, “And Matthew was your weak side?”

“All my lads are, and of course now ye and Maggie. I do love ye all, and I could never pick a favorite,” Barbara said, “but Matthew was the first, and I let Archie see, and it did cost us. It may never be put right. He’s not a demon, Archie. He does have a soul, and I did make him swear upon it that he’d not harm ye nor Maggie. Neither one of ye will wind up in that old house in the Paunchmarket.”

“What house is that?” asked Lily.

“All the truth shouldn’t be told. The point is, Archie gave his word, and I don’t doubt he’ll keep it. He does care for me, in his way.” Barbara lightly touched the silver ring and twisted it again around her finger. “It may not be what I dreamed of, yet the law would still consider ours a marriage after nearly twenty years, for all we’ve never had the words said over us in church.”

Lily softly remarked, “But ye still wear your mariner’s ring.”

“Aye. I wear this,” said Barbara, “to mind me of what was once real, even if it could not last. To mind myself that I was loved, and loved truly, for that is a thing I would hold and remember when I have grown old.”