water beneath, dashing about the great upstanding rocks in the
channel.

But other sound there was none, and to this sweet sequestered spot came
none to seek us.

Here in the fastnesses of the Garpel, Sandy and I abode many days. And
though the glen was searched, and patrol parties more than once came our
way, not one of them approached near the fastness of thickets where in
the daytime we were hidden. And each night, in all safety, I betook me
to the cottage of Jean Gordon.

Jean's story had been a sad one, but she made little of it now, though
it was well known to all the country-side.

"The Lord has taken away the stang of pain out of my life," she said. "I
was but a lass when I came to the Garpel thinking my heart broken. Yince
I loved a braw lad, bonny to look upon--and he loved me, or I was the
more deceived. Lindsay was his name. Doubtless ye have heard the common
tale. He slighted my love and left me without a word. Waes me, but the
very lift turned black when I heard it, and I cried out on the liars
that said the like. But belief came slowly to me. The loch is very near
to the Shirmers where I dwelt, and the tower window looks down into the
black deeps from among the ivy bushes on the wall. My thoughts ofttimes
turned on the short and easy road to peace. But praise be to His
marvellous name, I saw another way. So I biggit me this bit house on the
bonny birk-grown sides o' the Garpel, and e'en came my ways to bide
here.

"'Ye'll sune get a man, for ye're bonny! Never fash your thumb for
Lindsay!' said my kin."

"'I'll get nae man,' I threepit to them. 'What one slighted shall never
be given to another.' So forty year have I bidden here, and heard little
but the mavis sing and the cushie complain. Think weel o' yoursel',
Willie, lad, for ye are the first man body that has ever bidden the
nicht within Jean's Wa's. Sandy, great as he thinks himsel', can tak'
the Linn side for it. He is weather-seasoned like the red tod o' the
hills; but ye are shilpit and silly, boy William, so ye had best bide
wi' auld Jean when ye can. There's few in Gallowa' daur meddle wi' puir
Jean, for she is kin to John Graham o' Claverhouse himsel', and even the
erne's cousin is no a canny bird to meddle wi'."

So again I had fallen on my feet, as has mostly been my fortune with
women. Though, alas, that I should have to confess it, chiefly because
of my weakness, and with the elder sort of them.

Here after a day or two, there ca