e again, and dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost
sight o'."

By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew
knew the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five
minutes how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But
when it was ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the
open door and listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural
quickness, soon detected above the winds and rain a sound of
footsteps. She called a wise old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The
creature held his head a moment to the ground, looked at her
affirmatively, and at her command went to seek his master.

In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful
barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go
in; she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting
for whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby.
Andrew took it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying,

"I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart
for her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living;
but you'll save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite
aften wi' baith hands."

"Where is she, Andrew?"

"'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a
Christian woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a
lantern and went rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera
altar-stane o' Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a
word o' his great mercy!"

With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the
ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which
made a kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and
Andrew lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some
satisfaction to him that she did not actually die within such
unhallowed precincts; but the poor creature herself was beyond such
care. When she had seen her child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended
Mysie's assurance that she would care for it, all anxiety slipped away
from her. Andrew strove hard to make her understand the awful
situation in which she was; but the girl lay smiling, with upturned
eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the burden of living.

"You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you
may leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o'
comfort to say to her."