f everything but my soul, and wha kens but for this meeting that it
might hae been bartered away too."

In nothing, however, of all that then passed was there anything which so
moved the tranquil heart of my grandfather as the looks which, from
time to time, the desolate woman cast at her daughter. Fain she seemed
to speak and to catch her in her arms; but ever and anon the sense of
her own condition came upon her, and she began to weep, crying, "No, no,
I darena do that--I darena even mysel' to a parent's privilege after
what I hae done."

The poor lassie sat unable to make any answer; but at last, in a timid
manner, she took her mother softly by the hand, and the fond and lowly
penitent for a few moments allowed it to linger in her grip, willing to
have left it there; but suddenly stung by her conscience she snatched it
away, and again broke out into piercing lamentations and confessions of
unworthiness.

Meanwhile the charitable Ursie Firikins had made ready a mess of
porridge, and the mournful Magdalen being soothed and consoled, was
persuaded to partake. And afterwards, when they had sat some time, and
the crowd which had gathered out of doors in the street was dispersed,
my grandfather went to his lodgings; and having paid his lawin, returned
to the two sisters and Agnes Kilspinnie, and they all walked to the
shore of Leith together, where they found a boat going to Kinghorn, into
which they embarked; and having slept there, they hired a cart to take
them to Crail next morning, everyone who saw them wondering at the
dejected and ruinous appearance of the penitent. The particulars,
however, of their journey and of her reception in her native place, will
furnish matter for another chapter.

CHAPTER XXXV

When they came within a mile of the town, where a small public stood
that wayfaring men were wont to stop and refresh themselves at, my
grandfather urged the disconsolate Marion, who had come all the way from
Kinghorn without speaking a single word, to alight from the cart, and
remain there till the cloud of night, when she might go to her mother's
unafflicted by the gaze of the pitiless multitude.

To this, at first, she made no answer; but leaping out of the cart, and
standing still for a moment, she looked wistfully at her sister and
daughter, and then began to weep, crying, "Gang ye awa, and no mind me;
ye canna thole, and oughtna to share what I maun bear; and I'll never
break another vow: so, in