both, and
she is twice blessed. After all, she is a woman, with the woman's
prayer for attention, for being, once in a way, the centre of a
picture, as she is on her wedding day, the Day of Promise, whatever
follows.

An early episode in the life of the Black Colonel had associated him
with the rollicking "Reel O'Tulloch," a dance originated in Strathdee.
His people had gone to church, so went the tale, but, the weather being
wintry, no parson arrived. Seeking warmth, they began to blow on their
hands, then to shuffle with their feet on the floor, and presently,
when somebody fetched a fiddler, this broke into a reel. A bottle with
inspiration in it was brought from the change-house near by, and faster
went the music and faster grew the fun.

When young Jock Farquharson, hearing of this, came on the scene, the
"Reel O'Tulloch" was being danced "ower the kirk and ower the kirk,"
and voices cried:

"John, come kiss me now,
John, come kiss me now,
John, come kiss me by and by
And mak' nae mair adow."

One of the guests at our later, different dance, in Corgarff Castle,
must have remembered this, for suddenly there was a sort of "soughing"
of the song, then a singing of it, and it was positively roared out by
the assembly when the music stopped and the dance ended. I understood
the application and the invitation which were intended, and I caught a
look in Marget's flushed face, as if she also understood. Her mother
glanced at the roystering singers, then at the Black Colonel and, with
an apology for leaving me, went and stood beside her daughter, the
mothering instinct of protection called into action.

"Thank you, Mistress Marget," I heard Jock Farquharson say, in his most
melodious tone, "you have been kind to me, and I will hope to thank you
again. And thank you, Madame," he said, bowing low to her mother, "for
letting me lift my head to-night, as it has not been lifted for long.
I shall not forget to be grateful and, I hope, to deserve your
good-will."

Then he made me, the official host, a last, low bow with a mockery,
subtle but noticeable, in it, walked down the room, saluting and being
saluted on every side, and was gone. Our friendly ball, from which I
had expected so much, died away to the clink of Mack's galloping hoofs,
an unsettling rhythm.

_IX.--'Twixt Night and Morn_

They declare that if you are drowning, or otherwise at the crack o'
doom, your whole life's record leaps t