I thought ower muckle about him, never did I speak him fair. I loo'ed
Aaron wi' all my heart, and your father kent it; and that, I doubt, was
what made him so keen, for, oh, but he was vain!

"And now we've come to the night I'm so sweer to speak about. She was a
good happy lassie that went into the Den that moonlight night wi'
Aaron's arm round her, but it was another woman that came out. We
thought we had the Den to oursel's, and as we sat on the Shoaging Stane
at the Cuttle Well, Aaron wrote wi' a stick on the ground 'Jean Latta,'
and prigged wi' me to look at it, but I spread my hands ower my face,
and he didna ken that I was keeking at it through my fingers all the
time. We was so ta'en up with oursel's that we saw nobody coming, and
all at once there was your father by the side o' us! 'You've written the
wrong name, Aaron,' he said, jeering and pointing with his foot at the
letters; 'it should be Jean Sandys.'

"Aaron said not a word, but I had a presentiment of ill, and I cried,
'Dinna let him change the name, Aaron!' Your father had been to change
it himsel', but at that he had a new thait, and he said, 'No, I'll no'
do it; your brave Aaron shall do it for me.'

"Laddie, it doesna do for a man to be a coward afore a woman that's fond
o' him. A woman will thole a man's being anything except like hersel'.
When I was sure Aaron was a coward I stood still as death, waiting to
ken wha's I was to be.

"Aaron did it. He was loath, but your father crushed him to the ground,
and said do it he should, and warned him too that if he did it he would
lose me, bantering him and cowing him and advising him no' to shame me,
all in a breath. He kent so weel, you see, what was in my mind, and aye
there was that triumphing laugh ahint his face. If Aaron had fought and
been beaten, even if he had just lain there and let the man strike away,
if he had done anything except what he was bidden, he would have won,
for it would have broken your father's power ower me. But to write the
word! It was like dishonoring me to save his ain skin, and your father
took good care he should ken it. You've heard me crying to Aaron in my
sleep, but it wasna for him I cried, it was for his fire-side. All the
love I had for him, and it was muckle, was skailed forever that night at
the Cuttle Well. Without a look ahint me away I went wi' my master, and
I had no more will to resist him--and oh, man, man, when I came to
mysel' next morning I wished I h