tween two houses. A door high
up in the gable admitted them. The boards bent so much under his weight
that Robert feared the floor would fall.

'Bide ye there, sir, till I fess a licht,' she said.

This was Robert's first introduction to a phase of human life with which
he became familiar afterwards.

'Mind hoo ye gang, sir,' she resumed, returning with a candle. 'There's
nae flurin' there. Haud i' the middle efter me, or ye'll gang throu.'

She led him into a room, with nothing in it but a bed, a table, and a
chair. On the table was a half-made shirt. In the bed lay a tiny baby,
fast asleep. It had been locked up alone in the dreary garret. Robert
approached to look at the child, for his heart felt very warm to poor
Jessie.

'A bonnie bairnie,' he said,

'Isna he, sir? Think o' 'im comin' to me! Nobody can tell the mercy o'
't. Isna it strange that the verra sin suld bring an angel frae haven
upo' the back o' 't to uphaud an' restore the sinner? Fowk thinks it's a
punishment; but eh me! it's a mercifu' ane. It's a wonner he didna think
shame to come to me. But he cam to beir my shame.'

Robert wondered at her words. She talked of her sin with such a meek
openness! She looked her shame in the face, and acknowledged it hers.
Had she been less weak and worn, perhaps she could not have spoken thus.

'But what am I aboot!' she said, checking herself. 'I didna fess ye here
to speyk aboot mysel'. He's efter mair mischeef, and gin onything cud be
dune to haud him frae 't--'

'Wha's efter mischeef, Jessie?' interrupted Robert.

'Lord Rothie. He's gaein' aff the nicht in Skipper Hornbeck's boat to
Antwerp, I think they ca' 't, an' a bonnie young leddy wi' 'im. They war
to sail wi' the first o' the munelicht.--Surely I'm nae ower late,' she
added, going to the window. 'Na, the mune canna be up yet.'

'Na,' said Robert; 'I dinna think she rises muckle afore twa o'clock the
nicht. But hoo ken ye? Are ye sure o' 't? It's an awfu' thing to think
o'.'

'To convence ye, I maun jist tell ye the trowth. The hoose we're in
hasna a gude character. We're middlin' dacent up here; but the lave o'
the place is dreadfu'. Eh for the bonnie leys o' Bodyfauld! Gin ye see
my father, tell him I'm nane waur than I was.'

'They think ye droont i' the Dyer's Pot, as they ca' 't.'

'There I am again!' she said--'miles awa' an' nae time to be lost!--My
lord has a man they ca' Mitchell. Ower weel I ken him. There's a wuman
doon the stair