avie like some other lass? It's as easy to graft on a good
stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in a sair swither.
The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en to my Psalms
again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a weak,
sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic,
self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he
always had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear,
his hopes and his faith.

In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own
house now--David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge
that he helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the
feeling of a man doing a just penance that he went to look at a
furnished house, whose owner was going to the south of France with a
sick daughter. The place was pretty, and handsomely furnished, and
John paid down the year's rent. So when David returned with his young
bride, he assumed at once the dignity and the cares of a householder.

Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked
forward to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it
would have come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and
with a great gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar
clan. That it had been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously
called it, was a great disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she
visited it on her own sex. It was all Isabel's fault, and from the
very first day of the return of the new couple she assumed an air of
commiseration for the young husband, and always spoke of him as "poor
Davie."

This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was
perhaps unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young
people. Jenny received all such information with a dissenting silence.
She always spoke of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded
her that David's wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel
kent that there were plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna
Callendars for a' that." And it soon became evident to her womanly
keen-sightedness that John did not always return from his visits to
David and Isabel in the most happy of humors. He was frequently too
silent and thoughtful for a perfectly satisfied man; but whatever his
fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. They were evidently as yet
so light that hope frequently banished them a