i' the gloamin' hae gotten a grip o' the bonnie lad.
Eh! but he'll fair ill; and the Lord hae mercy upo' him--and nane upo'
them!"

"Hoot! hoot! lass; dinna speik wi' sic a venom. Ye ken wha says
_Vengeance is mine_?"

"Ay, ay, weel eneuch. And I houp He'll tak's ain upo' sic brazen
hizzies. You men-fowk think ye ken a hantle o' things that ye wad haud
us ohn kent. But nane kens the wiles o' a wumman, least awa them 'at
fa's into them, but anither wumman."

"It's nae savin' lore," said Andrew, a little troubled that his wife
should assert a familiar acquaintance with such things. But she went
on.

"Women's jist dreidfu'. Whan ance they gang the ill gait, they're
neither to haud nor bin'. And to think o' them layin' han's upo' sic a
bonnie weel-behaved laddie as that Alec Forbes, a ceevil, herty cratur,
wi' a kin' word an' a joke even for the beggar 'at he geid a bawbee
till! Weel, he'll come oot o' their cluiks, maybe no that nmckle the
waur efter a', as mony a man frae King Dawvid doonwith afore him."

"Noo, wumman!" said Andrew, in a tone of authority blended with rising
indignation; "ye're slidin' aff o' yer ain stule, and ye'll be upo' the
grun' afore ye win on to mine. Richt or wrang aboot the women, I bude
to ken mair aboot the men nor ye do; and I daur affirm and uphaud that
never man cam' oot o' the grip o' thae poor deluded craters--"

Mrs Constable interposed with one single emphatic epithet, not
admittable to the ears of this generation; but Andrew resumed, and went
on.

"--poor deluded craters, withoot losin' a great pairt o' what was left
in him o' the eemage o' God efter the fall. Woman, he tynes (loses) a
heap!"

"Hoo sud ye ken onything aboot that, Anerew?" returned his wife
sharply.

"The same way than ye ken sae weel aboot the she side o' the queston,
lass. We may jist enlichten ane anither a wee aboot some things,
mayhap."

Meantime the ears of the little pitcher in bed had been growing longer
and longer with curious horror. The something in itself awfully vague
about Alec's fate was wrapt in yet deeper clouds of terror and mystery
by the discord of opinion with regard to it on the part of her father
and mother, whom she had rarely heard differ. She pictured to herself
the image of his Maker being scratched off Alec by the claws of furies;
and hot pincers tearing nail after nail from the hand which had once
given her a penny. And her astonishment was therefore paralyzing when
she heard