at five o'clock."

For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had
determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There
was no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with
them his converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He
wished to leave his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with
any other memories.

CHAPTER VIII.

So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw
together. A boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair,
and though the evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one
spoke. The black waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad
lights shone vaguely through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and
the roar of the city blended with the stroke of the oars and the
patter of the rain. Only when they lay under the hull of a large ship
was the silence broken. But it was broken by a blessing.

"God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude
man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken
words in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and
in a moment or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern
Robert's white face in the middle of a group on deck.

"Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a
lusty, "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on
board of her!"

So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy,
dreamlike, misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion.

"Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae
learned to love you vera much."

"Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and
respect you?"

"You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in
your place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day,
David; sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions."

Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which
is born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made
about his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away,
and he had so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look
which David and she understood well.

"The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day
has been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep
and forget a' about it."

David sat down in his old place, and th