tly, "what were we to think
o' a' this, but that ye were really an' truly buried? The place, yer
name, yer age, a' richt to a tittle. What else could we think?"

"Indeed, Mrs. Craig," said I, smilin, "it is an odd business, an' I
dinna wunnur at yer bein deceived; but it's a' easily aneuch explained.
It's this confounded name o' mine that's at the bottom o' a' the
mischief. The Willie Smith here mentioned, I need hardly say, I suppose,
is no me; but I kent him weel aneuch, an' a decent lad he was--he just
lived twa or three doors frae us; an', as to the carrier misleadin ye, I
dinna wunnur at that either--for he wad naturally think ye were inquirin
after the deceased. But there's nae harm dune, Mrs. Craig," continued I.

"I'm no sure o' that," interrupted my hostess, wi' a look an' expression
o' voice that rather took me aback, as indeed, had also the _triumphant_
manner in which she had appealed to me if they could be blamed for havin
believed me dead. This she was aye pressin on me, an' I was rather
surprised at it; but it was to be fully accounted for.

"No!" said I, whan Mrs. Craig expressed her uncertainty as to there bein
ony mischief dune; "isna there Lucy to the fore, lookin as weel an' as
healthy as ever I saw her, an'"----

"Lucy's married!" interposed Mrs. Craig, firmly and solemnly.

"Married!" exclaimed I, starting frae my seat, in horror an'
amazement--"Lucy married!"

"'Deed is she, Mr. Smith, an' yon was her husband ye saw; an' ye canna
blame her, puir thing! I'm sure mony a sair heart she had after ye. I
thocht she wad hae gratten her een oot; but, bein sure ye were dead, an'
a guid offer comin in the way, ye ken, she couldna refuse't. It wad hae
been the heicht o' imprudence. Sae she juist dried her een, puir thing,
an' buckled to."

"Exactly, Mrs. Craig--exactly," said I, here interruptin her; "I
understan ye--ye need sae nae mair." An' I rushed oot o' the door like a
madman, an' through the streets, withoot kennin either what I was doin
or whar I was gaun. On recovering my composure a little, I fand mysel in
the Green o' Glasgow, an' close by the river side. The clear, calm, deep
water tempted me, in the desperation o' my thochts. Ae plunge, an' a'
this distractin turmoil that was rackin my soul, an' tearin my bosom
asunder, wad be stilled. In this frame o' mind, I gazed gloomily on the
glidin stream; but, as I gazed, better thochts gradually presented
themsels, an' finally, resentment took th