have quoted to
his daughter, Charles Lawson bade farewell to his parents, his wife, and
his country, and proceeded to India, where a relative of his mother's
had amassed a fortune, and who, while he refused to assist them in their
distress, had promised to make provision for their son. As we are not
writing a novel in three volumes, we shall not describe the scene of
their parting, and tell with what agony, with what tears, and with what
bitter words, Charles tore himself from his father, his mother, and his
yet unacknowledged wife. The imagination of the reader may supply the
blank. Hope urged him to go--necessity compelled him.

After his departure, Elizabeth drooped like an early lily beneath the
influence of a returning frost. There were whisperings among the matrons
and maidens of the neigbouring village. They who had formerly courted
her society began to shun it; and even the rude clown, who lately stood
abashed in her presence, approached her with indecent familiarity. The
fatal whisper first reached Andrew's ear at a meeting of the
kirk-session, of which he was a member. He returned home troubled in
spirit, a miserable and a humbled man, for his daughter had been his
pride. Poor Elizabeth confessed that she was married, and attempted to
prove what she affirmed. But this afforded no palliation of her offence
in the eyes of her rigid and offended father.

"Oh, what hae I been born to suffer ?" cried he, stamping his feet upon
the ground. "O, you Witch o' Endor!--you Jezebel!--you disgrace o' kith
and kin! Could naething--naething serve ye but breaking your puir auld
faither's heart? Get out o' my sicht!--get out o' my sicht!"

He remained silent for a few moments--the parent arose in his
heart--tears gathered in his eyes.

"But ye are still my bairn," he continued. "Oh, Betty, Betty, woman!
what hae ye brocht us to?"

Again he was silent, and again proceeded--

"But I forgie ye, Betty! Yes, if naebody else will, your faither will
forgie ye for your mother's sake, for ye are a' that I hae left o' her.
But we canna haud up our heads again in this pairt o' the
country--that's impossible. I've lang thocht o' gaun to America; and now
I'm driven till't."

He parted with his farm, and in the ensuing spring proceeded with his
daughter to Canada. We shall not enter upon his fortunes in the New
World--he was still broken in spirit; and, after twelve years'
residence, he was neither richer nor happier than when he l