n-looking, hungry body as it shook with her
sobs, and that terrible cough, which seemed as if it would carry her
away before his eyes. "Say you'll come, Mysie!" he pleaded, his hands
held out appealingly. "Say you'll come, an' it'll be so easy."

"No, no," she sobbed vehemently, "I canna do that. Dinna ask me ony
mair, Rob, I canna do that. It wadna be fair."

A hopeless look came into his eyes as he listened to her words, for he
knew that Mysie could never consent to his proposal. Frail as she was,
and torn by her wish to agree, yet he knew she meant it, when she said
no.

"Where do you live, Mysie?" he enquired at last, thinking to find some
way of helping her. "Wad you gie me your address, so that I'll ken where
you bide?"

"No, I dinna want to tell you, Rob. You'd better gang awa' noo. Mrs.
Ramsay will soon be comin' for me. Gang awa' an' leave me. I want to be
a wee while by mysel'. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wish I could dee an' leave
it a'!"

Robert stole away on tiptoe, as if he were afraid longer to intrude upon
her grief--his mind in a whirl, and his heart heavy with sorrow. He
returned to the Conference to find that the debate was in full swing,
and that Davie Donaldson, was laying about him in vigorous style,
denouncing the leaders for recommending the terms to the men, and
telling them that the "wee chocolate-moothed Chancellor had again
diddled them."

But he felt no interest in Davie's denunciation, and could not smile at
his picturesque language. His mind would revert to the gardens in
Princes Street, and he saw the thin white figure on the seat, the
picture of hopeless misery, her frail form torn with sobs; and heard the
wail in her voice as she moaned, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wish I could dee
an' leave it a'!"

Some of the young delegates wondered why Sinclair remained silent in
such an important debate. They had succeeded in raising a question which
at any other time would have brought him to his feet; but he sat
impassive and silent, and above all the clash and glamor, above the
applause and the interruptions, above all the witty sallies which
brought unexpected laughter, he saw only the thin, white lonely
figure--the dejected and outcast, the poor plaything of fate, and heard
the heart-breaking cry, "Oh, dear! I wish I could dee an' leave it a'!"
and in every syllable there was a stab of pain.

The Conference ended, and the delegates made homeward. The terms had
been agreed to, so far as Scotla