ed about the lasses at their work, looking
stupidly on; she fell to rummaging in old cabinets and presses, and
desisted when half through; she would begin remarks with an air of
animation and drop them without a struggle. Her common appearance was of
one who has forgotten something and is trying to remember; and when she
overhauled, one after another, the worthless and touching mementoes of
her youth, she might have been seeking the clue to that lost thought.
During this period she gave many gifts to the neighbours and house
lasses, giving them with a manner of regret that embarrassed the
recipients.

The last night of all she was busy on some female work, and toiled upon
it with so manifest and painful a devotion that my lord (who was not
often curious) inquired as to its nature.

She blushed to the eyes. "O, Edom, it's for you!" she said. "It's
slippers. I--I hae never made ye any."

"Ye daft auld wife!" returned his lordship. "A bonny figure I would be,
palmering about in bauchles!"

The next day, at the hour of her walk, Kirstie interfered. Kirstie took
this decay of her mistress very hard; bore her a grudge, quarrelled
with and railed upon her, the anxiety of a genuine love wearing the
disguise of temper. This day of all days she insisted disrespectfully,
with rustic fury, that Mrs. Weir should stay at home. But, "No, no," she
said, "it's my lord's orders," and set forth as usual. Archie was
visible in the acre bog, engaged upon some childish enterprise, the
instrument of which was mire; and she stood and looked at him a while
like one about to call; then thought otherwise, sighed, and shook her
head, and proceeded on her rounds alone. The house lasses were at the
burn-side washing, and saw her pass with her loose, weary, dowdy gait.

"She's a terrible feckless wife the mistress!" said the one.

"Tut," said the other, "the wumman's seeck."

"Weel, I canna see nae differ in her," returned the first. "A
fushionless quean, a feckless carline."

The poor creature thus discussed rambled a while in the grounds without
a purpose. Tides in her mind ebbed and flowed, and carried her to and
fro like seaweed. She tried a path, paused, returned, and tried another;
questing, forgetting her quest; the spirit of choice extinct in her
bosom, or devoid of sequency. On a sudden, it appeared as though she had
remembered, or had formed a resolution, wheeled about, returned with
hurried steps, and appeared in the dining-room,