d
now smiling as she spoke--'how can ye think o' singing at such a time?
But God lang vouchsafe ye sae light and cheerfu' a heart! It's a great
blessing, Jessy, and canna be prized too highly.'

'I'm aware of it, mother,' replied her daughter, 'and am, I trust,
thankful for it. I dinna see, after a', that anything should seriously
distress us--but guilt. If we keep free o' _that_, what hae we to fear?
A' ither mischances will mend, or if they dinna, they'll at least smooth
doon wi' time.'

'But why are ye no puttin' up your silk goun, Jessy?' here interposed
her mother, abruptly; seeing her daughter laying aside the article of
dress she referred to, as if she did not intend it should have a place
in the little chest she was packing.

'The silk gown, mother, I'll no tak wi' me,' replied Jessy, smiling;
'I'll leave't at hame till better times come roun'. It would hardly
become my station now, mother, to be gaun flaunting about in silks.'

'Too true, Jessy,' said her mother with a sigh. 'It may be as weel, as
ye say, to leave't at hame for a wee, till times mend wi' us at ony
rate, although God only knows when that may be, if ever.'

'I'll keep it for my wedding gown, mother,' said Jessy, laughingly, and
with an intention of counteracting the depressing tendency of her
inadvertent remarks on the propriety of her leaving her silk gown
behind. 'I'll keep it for my wedding dress, mother,' she said, 'although
it's mair than likely that a plainer attire will be mair suitable for
that occasion too.'

'Nae sayin', Jessy,' replied her mother. 'Ye'll maybe get a canny laird
yet, that can ride to market wi' siller spurs on his boots and gowd lace
on his hat.'

'Far less will please me, mither,' replied Jessy, blushing and laughing
at the same time. 'I never, even in our best days, looked so high, and
it would ill become me to do so now.'

With such conversation as this did mother and daughter endeavour to
divert their minds from dwelling on the painful reflection which the
latter's occupation was so well calculated to excite.

An early hour of the following morning saw Jessy Flowerdew seated in a
little cart, well lined with straw by her doting father, who proposed
driving her himself into the city. A _small, blue-painted chest_, a
bandbox, and one or two small bundles, formed the whole of her
travelling accompaniments. She herself was wrapped in a scarlet mantle,
and wore on her head a light straw bonnet, of tasteful sha