l't."

The wardrobe was invisible in the darkness, but they could still hear
Elspeth's breathing as she slept, and the exhausted woman listened long
to it, as if she would fain carry away with her to the other world the
memory of that sweet sound.

"If you gang to Thrums," she said at last, "you may hear my story frae
some that winna spare me in the telling; but should Elspeth be wi' you
at sic times, dinna answer back; just slip quietly away wi' her. She's
so young that she'll soon forget all about her life in London and all
about me, and that'll be best for her. I would like her lassiehood to be
bright and free frae cares, as if there had never been sic a woman as
me. But laddie, oh, my laddie, dinna you forget me; you and me had him
to thole thegither, dinna you forget me! Watch ower your little sister
by day and hap her by night, and when the time comes that a man wants
her--if he be magerful, tell her my story at once. But gin she loves
one that is her ain true love, dinna rub off the bloom, laddie, with a
word about me. Let her and him gang to the Cuttle Well, as Aaron and me
went, kenning no guile and thinking none, and with their arms round one
another's waists. But when her wedding-day comes round--"

Her words broke in a sob and she cried: "I see them, I see them standing
up thegither afore the minister! Oh! you lad, you lad that's to be
married on my Elspeth, turn your face and let me see that you're no' a
magerful man!"

But the lad did not turn his face, and when she spoke next it was to
Tommy.

"In the bottom o' my kist there's a little silver teapot. It's no' real
silver, but it's fell bonny. I bought it for Elspeth twa or three months
back when I saw I couldna last the winter. I bought it to her for a
marriage present. She's no' to see it till her wedding-day comes round.
Syne you're to give it to her, man, and say it's with her mother's love.
Tell her all about me, for it canna harm her then. Tell her of the fool
lies I sent to Thrums, but dinna forget what a bonny place I thought it
all the time, nor how I stood on many a driech night at the corner of
that street, looking so waeful at the lighted windows, and hungering for
the wring of a Thrums hand or the sound of the Thrums word, and all the
time the shrewd blasts cutting through my thin trails of claithes. Tell
her, man, how you and me spent this night, and how I fought to keep my
hoast down so as no' to waken her. Mind that whatever I have bee