At last the opportunity he had so longed for presented itself to him-under somewhat gloomy auspices certainly. The market-day before harvest finished at Cairnieford, Adam, who although still unable to use his arm, could manage to walk as far as the town with the help of a stout stick, returned from the Port to find Jeanie in a high state of alarm about her mother. Mrs. Lindsay had had an unusually "bad turn." The doctor came, and directed that the patient should be carefully nursed and served with nourishing and delicate food, mentioning a variety of dainties, which were as far beyond Jeanie's power to procure as the fruit of Aladdin's cave. What was her surprise a couple of hours afterward to receive a basket from the town, brought by the doctor's boy, containing almost everything that had been ordered for her mother. She knew who had been the sender, although the laddie said he had got the things from his master. She knew quite well that the doctor had met Robin Gray in the market, told him about her mother, and he had forwarded the necessary articles he knew she could not obtain otherwise. He came himself in the afternoon, and on the threshold she arrested him with thanks. "Ye're placing us under new obligations every day," she said in the quiet sad way she had obtained lately; "an' I dinna think we'll ever be able to pay ye back. Whiles I think that ye maun fancy ye get little even o' thanks for a' ye hae dune. But oh, dinna think that, for it's because the heart is fu' that words are scarce." Like most generous men, he felt awkward in acknowledging gratitude; so he moved his huge feet uneasily, and answered : "I ken a' that, Jeanie-but how is she now?" "Better, an' she's fallen into a sleep." "That's weel, and-and-Jeanie-' He suddenly griped her arm-still a shapely one, although it had lost much of its plumpness. There was a pause, and her sad eyes scanned his face with a fear in them of what was coming. "There's something I hae wanted to say to ye for a lang while, Jeanie," he said hurriedly, and gazing fixedly at her hand; "but for the reason that I didna want to fash ye, I hae held back. Ye may as weel ken now as ony ither time.' "Aye, Mister Gray," she said huskily, turning her face from him. "I want ye to marry me, Jeanie," he said simply, and with emotion; "that's the plain truth, and that's the way ye can relieve yoursel' o' a' the weight o' debt ye fancy ye're owing me and worrying yoursel' about. I'm an auld man maybe for siccan a young lass, but ye ken me, and ye winna find ony difference in me as lang's I live. I'll try to make ye happy, lass, and your faither and mither comfortable. That's a' I hae to say." She took his big strong hand in hers, and pressed it warmly. "Ye hae been a guid frien' to us at our sairest need," she answered chokingly; "an' if ye had asked me to lay doon my life for ye, I would hae dune't willingly. But, oh, I cannacanna be your wife, when I'm ay thinking about him that's awa.' "That wound'll heal, Jeanie, in time. Ye canna be his now, or I wouldna hae spoken. But ye can if ye will mak three folk happy. For their sakes, Jeanie, dinna refuse me.” He spoke with a simple earnestness that moved her deeply, knowing as she did the truth and goodness of his nature. There was nothing of a girl's bashfulness in her manner. His grave earnest speech had its effect upon her; and, besides, she had been prepared for something of this sort long ago. "I ken that he's awa; but, oh, my thochts are wi' him yet, an' I couldna be a true wife ay thinking about him. But there's naething in the warld for me to do noo but help my faither an' puir mither." "Ye'll do that best as mistress o' Cairnieford; and your memory o' James Falcon winna mak ye a haet the waur a wife." "Gi'e me a wee while to think-until the morn-I canna, canna answer ye the noo." F "I dinna want to press ye ower sair or ower sune," he said, detaining her, and now his clear eyes rested on her averted face yearningly-eyes glistening with a passion in which his whole strength seemed concentrated. "Maybe I shouldna hae spoken yet; but, wow, lass, it's been hard wark to keep the upper hand o' the thoughts and feelings that hae been jum'lin' through me sac lang. I hae tried wi' a' my micht to keep doon the words that I hae been burnin' to speak, lest they should pain you, and mak' a gowk o' mysel'. But I canna bear't ony langer. Jeanie, Jeanie, lass, ye hae been like the licht o' heaven itsel' to me-Guid forgi'e me if 't be wrang to feel sae. I just couldna help mysel'. A' the gowd I hae won and saved, a' my beasts and plenishing that I hae been toiling for, for mair nor thretty year, hae grown as nocht in my e'e, compared wi' you. I would heave them a' frae me this minute, wi' a glad heart, if that would bring ye ony nearer to me." "Oh dinna say ony mair," she cried, striving to escape from him. The passion of the man made her tremble; for she felt that she had nothing wherewith to requite it. "I maun speak on noo, if it was to be the last time I was ever to speak again wi' you. I ken's its redic'lous like for an man like me (bitterly) to be speaking this way. But I canna help mysel'. A deevil or an angel has got possession o' me, and's drivin' me on whether I will or no. God help me, I feel mair like a wean ready to greet I dinna ken what for, nor a man that micht be your father. I ken hoo redic❜lous it is; I ken hoo folk would lauch at me did they ken o't; but a' that just makes it the waur to bear. Dinna ye lauch at me, lass, for that would drive me mad at ance.” "Oh, Heaven kens hoo I wish that I could gie ye sic a heart as ye deserve," she exclaimed impetuously; and was sorry the next moment that she had said so much, feeling the tremulous eagerness with which he drew her shrinking form toward him, and fearing, with good reason, that he had accepted the wish as equivalent to the power to realize it. "They were sweet words, hinny, sweet words to ane that never ken'd faither, mither, or sister, and began life haudin' horses in the market, and herdin' cattle-wha's had a sair faucht wi' the warld, though he has got the better o't, and never ken'd what it was to hae onybody to lo'e him for his ain sake. Ye needna draw frae me, Jeanie. Powerfu' though this passion be, it hasna the power to make me forget that I'm Robin Gray, twa score and ten, and ye're a young lassie whase kind heart pities me, and can do nae mair.” "I would do onything-onything in the warld but this, to pleasure ye." (Gasping and confused.) "And this is the only thing in the world that can pleasure me (calming); and gin ye'll come to my hame, and bring the sunsheen into't, ye'll never hae cause to sorrow, if it be in the power o' man to mak' ye happy." "I hae no doubt o' that" (sincerely). "The morn, then, ye'll tell me whether or no ye'll be the guidwife o' Cairnieford." "And ye's hae my guidwill to't," said Adam, who had come out seeking Jeanie in time to hear the last words. "Thank ye, Adam, but it's the lassie's I want first." "Ye's hae that, Cairnieford, ye's hae that.” "We'll ken the morn." And Jeanie, having retreated the moment her father had appeared, Robin hurried off; unwilling to remain, lest he should in any way take advantage of the influence he was aware that Adam was ready to use on his behalf. But although he was too generous to avail himself of that influence, he was mistaken in fancying that it would not be used unasked. 66 CHAPTER X. A HEART STRUGGLE. My father argued sair, my mither didna speak, ADAM LINDSAY was a stern man, and apt to grumble petulantly at the sharp stones and thorns he had to tramp over on his road of life. But he was not intentionally unkind in act or word. Simply, his conduct was regulated by a narrow view of morals. To him the chief end of man was to attend the kirk regularly, to "pay his way," and to save as much siller as possible. That was the sum total of his creed; and he was sincerely consistent in walking by its light. If the light happened to make him uncharitable in judging his neighbours, he was unconscious of the failing. Well-doing was to him synonymous with making siller. Justice meant paying everybody whatever number of pounds, shillings, and pence might be owing. Yet when he heard the minister preach against the worship of Mammon, Adam had no suspicion that he was in any way guilty of that sin.. Sentiment entered very slightly into his nature; and his affection for his daughter displayed itself in pride of her deft and thrifty asked her to be his wife, Adam his should marry one who was measure the adopted son and Clashgirn. ways. When James Falcon was proud that a daughter of regarded by most folk as in a probable heir of the Laird of When he learned that Falcon was obliged to sail in the Colin and put off the marriage because he had no money, and was unable to obtain the farm from the Laird without it, he was disappointed. But he thought it would come right after a while. The news came that Falcon was lost, and Adam said, “Puir lad, on his first voyage too! Aweel, we maun a' die ae time or ither." Now, Robin Gray had asked Jeanie to marry him, and Adam, |