and mine. But I canna care for ye as I cared for him, and gin I was my lane in the world I would say no to your offer, jist because I honour ye, and think ye should hae a wife deservin' o' ye-"

"But what better would I be if I didna care for her?” he interrupted eagerly.

“I canna answer that," she said, smiling in spite of her sorrow; and that Robin accepted as a good omen. "But I was gaun to say that I'm no my lane, and for the sake o' them that need my help, for the sake o' a' that we are awing ye— gin ye can take me understan'in' a' that, I'm ready to be your wife, Robin Gray, and I'll try to be a faithfu' ane."

“It's a bargain,” he cried, loud with joy, and catching her in his arms, in spite of the plate, which was smashed on the floor, he kissed her with a smack which certainly sounded of delight. "It's a bargain-and that's the erls," he added.

There never was lover so enthusiastic, and there never was lady so cold. She seemed to become aware that she was playing an ungracious part, for she tried to smile and said softly

"Ye winna heed me being a wee thing quiet, for it's mair i' my heart to greet nor to laugh.”

"I'll no heed onything ye like to do, my dawtie, sae lang's ye dinna change your mind afore the minister puts it ayont your power to do't. Bless ye, lassie, ye hae gien me a happiness that I never ken'd afore. I'll craw as crouse as a gamecock noo, an' I'm half minded to gie ye twa or three steps o' the Hielan' fling this minute, jist to relieve mysel' o' some o' this joy that's swellin' my breast."

"I wish ye may never hae cause to repent o' your joy." "Repent! Hoots, lassie, haud up your head an' look in my face. See if it's ane that's ever like to change. Nae fear o' that; its new life ye hae gien me, an I'm as young again's I was three minutes syne. Nae doubt we'll hae bits o' bickerings, as a' folk hae; but we'll hael them wi' a kiss, an' gang doucely to kirk an' fair thegither for a' that."

Jeanie could not help experiencing a sense of relief. As

the sunshine lightens the heart so the warm light of this man's great love shone in upon her despondency, lifted it up, and blessed her with the first breath of sweet content she had known for many days.

There is an irresistible gladness rewards the bestower of pleasure on others—like mercy, the gift blesses the giver and receiver; and Jeanie was in no way unfaithful to the memory of James Falcon in feeling the happier for Robin Gray's joy. Besides, it is only the sourest of natures which can persist in remaining gloomy and sad when the radiance of a pleasant future is shed upon them. She had been fretted by the thousand petty cares of a struggle for mere existence, with a dark hopeless future. That was all over now; there were light and peace before her; and as the weight of her burden decreased, she could not but be relieved.

"I'll ay be glad when I see ye happy, Robin," she said as he was leaving, after having insisted upon an early marriage, and obtained her consent.

"Then ye'll ay be glad, Jeanie lass, for I'll ay be happy." He spoke quite confidently-no shadow of fear crossing his mind.

CHAPTER XI.

A WEDDING AND A HOME-COMING.

"Fy let us a' to the bridal,

For there'll be lilting there;

For Jock's to be married to Maggie,

The lass wi' the gowden hair."-Old Song.

THERE was no happier man in all Scotland than Robin Gray on that bright Sabbath morning when the banns of marriage were proclaimed between the bachelor of Cairnieford and the spinster of Portlappoch. He had oiled his hair and brushed his whiskers with unusual care, and dressed himself with all the labour of a youthful beau to attend the kirk that morning He sat proudly erect on his seat in the far corner of the

kirk when the proclamation was made, and he never blinked under the curious stare of the congregation, which was immediately turned upon him, as if he were about to perpetrate some deed which demanded the active interest of all who knew anything about him. Even those who only knew him by name took a good look at him, as if he had suddenly done something which rendered him worthy of special observation.

Douce old couples, who had known the ups and downs of married life, regarded him with grave benignancy; young couples who had just passed the Rubicon, smiled to each other, as if it were a satisfaction to discover others embarking on the same sea as themselves. Maidens looked and wondered when their turn would come; not a few would have been well pleased to change places with the spinster who had just been proclaimed, and, having no chance of doing so, thought that she had “waled a man wi' years eneuch onyway." Those who knew about James Falcon gave their watering mouths a wry twist, and thought that she had “on wi' the new love gey sune after being aff wi' the auld."

Youths who knew Jeanie, on the other hand, would not have been sorry to change places with the proud bachelor, and wondered that she would take such an old man. Then they thought sneeringly of well-stocked Cairnieford, and for five seconds held woman-kind in general in bitter scorn for their mercenary affections.

The stare presently turned from the bachelor to Adam Lindsay's seat. But Adam was there alone, dry, clean, and stiff, the splints and bandages of his wounded arm hidden by a big red cotton handkerchief, the corners of which were fastened behind his neck, and the body of it forming a comfortable rest for the arm. There was satisfaction and pride in the father's heart at that moment, such as he had never known since the day on which his own banns had been proclaimed. There was his daughter publicly announced as the future guidwife of Cairnieford. He felt as much honoured as if he had publicly received some acknowledgment of personal merit.

As for Robin, he was proud too, as well as happy. He gazed straight at the pulpit during the examination of the folk; but his eyes wavered a moment to rest on the hawkish face of the Laird of Clashgirn, whose seat was just beneath the pulpit-that he might be the nearer to godliness probably. The Laird's eyes twinkled, and there was a queer grin on his visage as his head made one of his peculiar dabs forward at his Bible. It was a complacent and patronizing grin, and yet Robin read it as meaning, "I hae got ye noo, my frien'."

The sunlight streamed in through the windows with their white blinds at either side of the pulpit, and shed a glancing radiance around the ruddy-visaged and snowy-haired minister as he gave out the psalm. The congregation rose and the simple song of praise was chanted, not in the best of tune, perhaps, for the precentor's voice was cracked and his tone shrill, and few of the folk practised music or attempted to sing a note except in the kirk, but with a sincerity in singing right or wrong 'that imparted a certain harmony to the discord. With all its discord of untrained voices, the song had never before sounded so solemnly in the ears of Robin Gray, for his heart was glad and lifted up in thankfulness.

When the service was over, and the congregation was slowly, and in order, quitting the kirk, groups of twos and threes halted among the graves outside, and about the gate of the kirkyard, to exchange friendly greetings, and gossip a little about the weather, the crops, the sermon, and the general news of the week-for newspapers were rare in those days, and the news of a month past progressed slowly to the folk of Portlappoch, and was passed graciously from mouth to mouth as news.

The forthcoming marriage was another topic of this day's gossip, and as Robin halted to speak to his acquaintances, he received congratulations and pawky smiles, which he accepted with good-humoured thanks.

The Laird of Clashgirn, leaning on his thick gold-headed Sabbath staff-for he used a plainer one on week-dayshirpled up to him.

"I gie ye joy, Cairnieford," he said with a complacent dab, "and a lang life wi' your dawtie. Od, it's extraordinar'. Ye beat us a' wi' your farm an' your cattle, and noo ye beat us a' wi' marryin' the brawest lass amang us."

"I'm obleeged to ye, McWhapple," answered Robin drily and moving off.

The Laird hirpled after him with malicious friendliness. "Aye, she's a braw quean" (smirking and taking a pinch); "but it couldna be true that she cared muckle for my puir frien' Jeames Falcon, or she couldna hae forgot him so soon.'

Robin halted, and his visage darkened for an instant. Somehow, this reference to Falcon seemed to convey a slur upon Jeanie and himself, and a twinge of anger shot through him that imparted a bitterness to the cup of joy he had been quaffing. But the shadow passed; the sun shone too brightly on this day to permit it to linger.

"That's atween hersel' and him that's awa, McWhapple," he answered quietly; "but she kens that if she was to greet her e'en oot, or to bide single a' her days, she couldna bring the dead to life."

"And so she mends her loss wi' taking anither man. Od, that's woman-like."

"Just that. By-the-by, did ye hear what Dunbar was telling me? There's been a heap o' smugglin' hereabout, especially in brandy an' tobacco."

"That smugglin's an awfu' ruination to honest traders." "Nae doot. Ye do a wee in the brandy and tobacco trade yoursel', d'ye no ?"

"Whiles-whiles" (grasping his staff tightly).

"Aye, weel, ye'll be glad to hear that the gaugers hae gotten word o' the smugglin' and they're determined to put it down."

"A guid thing-a guid thing for honest trade. Guid day to ye, Cairnieford."

And the Laird hirpled away to the inn for his pony.

Robin's good-humour was completely restored now; for he was always amused whenever he had said anything to make