grandparents. He reflected that their influence with her did
not seem very great, and if she were vexed by anything they said, it
might destroy what little they had. Then it would make them unhappy,
and he could not bear to think of it. He made up his mind that he
would not mention it, but, in the hope she would now change her way,
leave the past to be forgotten. He had no sooner thus resolved,
however, than he grew uncomfortable, and was unsatisfied with the
decision. All would not be right between his friend and him! Andrew
Comin would have something against him! He could no longer meet him as
before, for he would be hiding something from him, and he would have a
right to reproach him! Then his inward eyes grew clear. He said to
himself, "What a man has a right to know, another has no right to
conceal from him. If sorrow belong to him, I have as little right to
keep that from him as joy. His sorrows and his joys are part of a
man's inheritance. My wisdom to take care of this man!--his own is
immeasurably before mine! The whole matter concerns him: I will let
him know at once!"

The same night he went to see him. His wife was out, and Donal was
glad of it. He told him all that had taken place.

He listened in silence, his eyes fixed on him, his work on his lap, his
hand with the awl hanging by his side. When he heard how Eppy had
tricked Donal that night, leaving him to watch in vain, tears gathered
in his old eyes. He wiped them away with the backs of his horny hands,
and there came no more. Donal told him he had first thought he would
say nothing to him about it all, he was so loath to trouble them, but
neither his heart nor his conscience would let him be silent.

"Ye did richt to tell me," said Andrew, after a pause. "It's true we
haena that muckle weicht wi' her, for it seems a law o' natur 'at the
yoong 's no to be hauden doon by the experrience o' the auld--which can
be experrience only to themsel's; but whan we pray to God, it puts it
mair in his pooer to mak use o' 's for the carryin' oot o' the thing we
pray for. It's no aye by words he gies us to say; wi' some fowk words
gang for unco little; it may be whiles by a luik o' whilk ye ken
naething, or it may be by a motion o' yer han', or a turn o' yer heid.
Wha kens but ye may haud a divine pooer ower the hert ye hae 'maist
gi'en up the houp o' ever winnin' at! Ye hae h'ard o' the convic'
broucht to sorrow by seein' a bit o' the same matt