"I will hae naething frae ye sae lang as I can work for mysel'. We needna bide here ony langer, faither; a' that need be said is said."

"There's just ae word, and that is to tell ye, Cairnieford, that my arm is nearly richt again, and wi' Heaven's will I'll work day and nicht to pay ye back every bawbee that we owe ye.

"Hoot, toot," ejaculated Boghaugh; "auld folk and young folk are a' gane wud, I think. This is no the way to part. Come, come, Cairnieford, just say ye hae been wrang, and that ye'll think nae mair about this daft habble; and ye, guidwife, just help him ower the slap and gie him your hand."

It is possible that Robin would have yielded to the reconciliation at that moment, for the resolution which Jeanie's bearing expressed had fallen like a cold shower on his distracted thoughts, and enabled him to realize the idea that the treasure he had valued so-and still valued-w -was slipping from his grasp for ever, when one word from him might save it. But Jeanie herself interposed.

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"Na, Boghaugh, wise and kind though your counsel be, I can never gie him my hand again till I hae proof that his mind is as free frae a' doubt o' me as it was on the day we were married. I would wrang him and mysel' baith to do't; and I winna hae a patch where there has been nae rent.”

"She shall never gie him her hand again wi' my will, though he should gang doon on his knees till her, and beg her to forgie him," said Adam stoutly, and drawing her toward the door.

Robin's head was bowed, and his hands hung listlessly by

his sides.

On the threshold she looked back, and then, releasing herself from her father, she returned quickly to her husband.

"I canna gang awa," she said in a tremulous whisper, "without telling ye that I never ken'd how muckle I cared for ye till the noo when we are parting, maybe never to see ane another or speak a kind word again. But it maun be; for your sake and mine, we'll be better apart."

He made no reply; indeed he could not, for his voice failed him.

She quickly touched his cheek with her lips and then ran out of the house stifling an hysterical sob.

Robin leaned his shoulder against the wall, groaning.

"Deevil tak' it," muttered Boghaugh, apparently exasperated beyond measure, "it clean dings a' I hae ever seen that twa folk as fond o' ilk other as can be will make their lives miserable just because ane o' them hasna courage to say forgie and forget."

The old man shook his grey hairs and struck the ground impatiently with his staff, forgetful of all his caution. Then, as if struck by a new idea

"I'll cry her back."

Robin raised his hand to stay him.

"No," he said huskily, "it'll dae nae guid; better let her gang."

"But this'll never dae-ye maun come to a richt understanding."

"I see nae way o' bringing it about."

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Weel, ye'll come hame wi' me the nicht, and after ye hae had a guid sleep your head will be clearer and maybe ye'll be able to see then."

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Very weel, I'll follow ye; but I'm gaun owerby to Clashgirn first."

CHAPTER XXVII.

GIRZIE'S BEQUEST.

"He strays among the woods and briers,
Or in the glens and rocky caves,

His sad complaining dowie raves.”—Burns.

For two hours after Boghaugh had departed Robin remained in the house alone. What melancholy musings were his during that space; what spasms of pain; how many resolves hastily adopted and as hastily rejected!

All these resolves, however, were directed toward one object;

to clear up what appeared to be so inexplicable in Jeanie's statement, namely, who had been the man who had brought the false message from Askaig, and what had been his motive in doing so; or rather, who had been his employer, for without doubt the man had acted merely as a servant.

There was a distinct clue to start with in the fact that the gig had been that of Clashgirn.

“If this be ane o' Nicol McWhapple's tricks to fule me, by the Lord aboon it'll be the dearest bit o' knavery he has ever played," he muttered moodily with clenched teeth.

Somehow the bitterness of his wrath seemed to have turned from Jeanie on finding another object upon which to vent itself. He thought of her tenderly, and that kiss upon his cheek had been more potent to soothe him than all the drowsy syrup of the East could have been. Those last words of hers were more precious to him in his sorrow than all the dearest memories of his life.

And yet he winced whenever he thought of Falcon, became bitter and jealously angry: unreasonable, he admitted it was, seeing that when he had married her, he had done so with her confession fresh before him that her heart was Falcon's. But then he had not speculated on the possibility of his return; and he had speculated largely on winning her from his memory all to himself. He had devoted his whole energies to the task, and had fancied that he was succeeding-nay, knew that he was succeeding, when the old love rose from the dead and everything went wrong.

When his irritation was rapidly rising into a new frenzy a voice at his elbow whispered-"I never ken'd how muckle I cared for ye till noo," and the words acted as a charm, frightened away his evil thoughts as the crucifix was said to scare away the foul fiend himself.

Girzie returned. She was dourly silent, and moved about the house in a quick nervous way. She had been up to Askaig and obtained confirmation of Jeanie's intelligence concerning Wattie, so far as Rob Keith was able to confirm it; for he had been out when Falcon and Wattie had quitted the

house. She had gone to several places where she had thought it possible Wattie might have staid during the night; but she could obtain no information concerning him anywhere, and now she was preparing to start in pursuit.

Robin had waited for her in the expectation of learning from her something relative to the man of the gig.

"Hae they fee'd ony new men at Clashgirn ?”

"No that I ken o' or hae heard o'; they hae just the same loons they had at hairst."

Her answers to all his queries were short, sharp, and chiefly consisted of "I dinna ken." She was preoccupied and even surly, far too busy with her preparations, and too anxious about her son, even to ask one question as to the result of Jeanie's interview, much as she had been interested in the matter previously.

He was moving to the door before he observed the peculiarity of her manner. His attention was attracted by the sight of an old-fashioned bonnet which she had produced from some receptacle under the bed, and which she hastily donned, tying the faded ribbons under her chin with nervous fingers. He could not help being struck by her appearance in this huge headgear, in which he had never seen her before, so far as he could remember.

Then he noticed how the thin lips were compressed, and the sharp features were drawn together as if with pain. His hand had always been ready to help the sorrowing, and at present his own misfortune made him keenly sympathize with that of others.

"Is there onything wrang, Girzie ?" he said, regarding her through the mist of his own troubled thoughts.

"A hantle ower muckle wrang, my certie," she said sharply, and with a toss of her head as she gave the bow she had tied a finishing jerk. She felt somehow as if he were in a measure to blame for Wattie's escapade; "ye needna think, Cairnieford, ye hae gotten a' the sorrow o' the world to yoursel', for there's a wheen o't cam' to my gate."

"But what is't ?"

"Wattie, the gomeril, has gane awa' wi' Jeamie Falcon, and Guid kens what'll befa' my puir bairn—the deil's in him, wha would ever hae thocht o' him playing sic a cantrip?"

And. alternately ready to give vent to wild lamentations and angry outbursts, with the acute grief she was really suffering hidden by her exclamations of vexation, she continued her preparations.

"And what are ye gaun to dae ?"

"Gaun to seek him wherever he is-wha kens but the puir daft creatur' may hae got among strangers wha'll just torture the sowl out o' him wi' making a fule o' him—or wha kens but he's maybe deeing at some dykeside, starved and cauld and friendless, for Jeamie would be sure to send him hame, and that's what I dread maist. Lord guide him—but wait tell I get a haud o' him. I'll learn him to gae dancing after folk that dinna want him, and hae nae way o' daeing wi' him though they did. I'll gar him dance till anither tune, leaving me in sic a state about him—my puir bairn, my puir witless, helpless bairn, God guide ye wherever ye be."

Her voice was husky and broken, and there were tears in her eyes, across which she immediately drew the back of her hand with an angry "hoots."

"I wish I could help ye, Girzie; is there-naething I can do for ye ?"

"Na, thank ye, Cairnieford, there's nought ye could dae except help me to seek him, and that ye canna; but there's nae need; I ken weel eneuch the road they hae ta’en, and I'll find him."

"Do ye no want ony siller? Ye dinna ken what ye may hae to spend."

"Na, I dinna want that either. I hae a pickle o' my ain that I hae been gathering for ten years past, sae that whan I'm ta'en to my lang hame Wattie michtna be just a'thegither unprovided for. It's no muckle, but I hae scrimped mysel' sair mony a time no to break on't because it was for him, and because I ken that wi a' the loon will hae a hungry wame mony a day. I maun break on't noo; but it's on his account, ye see, and that's different."