eflect that the present
concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the
books were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty
years previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the
Druids' stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to
some very sad thoughts.

She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to
the "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face
over the books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a
strange woman should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own
dear lad a banished wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion
would be easy for her. Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and
troubled him: and yet when she sat so hopelessly down before the fire,
and without fear or apology

"Let the tears downfa',"

he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual
concern, "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?"

"I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!"

"You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you
occasion; and Davie maun drink as he's brewed."

"Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you
mixed wi' your ain hands."

"I did my duty by him."

"He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence.
If Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its
forefault."

Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more
years had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his
word had been law.

"Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a
moth to a candle."

"It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces."

"I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns
werena sae contrarie."

"There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman."

Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on
it before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want,
woman?" he said sternly.

"I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill."

"Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o'
Paradise wi' publicans and sinners."

"I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would
break;" and then all the barriers that education and habit had built
were suddenly overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out
passionately, "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that
lay on my bosom, and wa