noo instantly thrown open to
me, nor that I lost nae time in availin mysel' o' the liberty to which
they invited. The first thing I did on gettin oot was to provide mysel
wi' a new coat and hat; for, until this was done, I wasna in a fit state
to be seen, an' couldna think o' walkin the streets in the torn-down and
blackguard lookin condition in which my captors had left me. Havin,
however, improved my outward man a little, and brushed up my face a
bit--but on which, notwithstandin a' I could do, there continued to
remain some ugly traces o' my late adventure--I thocht I couldna do
better, as I had noo a lang idle evenin before me, than ca' on twa or
three auld and intimate acquaintances o' our family that resided in
Glasgow. In pursuance o' this resolution, I began wi' some decent folks
o' the name o' Robertson, distant relations o' our ain, and from whom I
had, on the occasion o' former visits, o' which I had made twa or three,
met wi' the most kind an' cordial welcome; and o' this I naturally
expected a repetition in the present instance. What was my surprise and
mortification, then, whan I fand it quite the reverse--most markedly
sae!

"Oh, William, is that you!" said Mrs. Robertson, drily, and wi' a degree
o' stiffness and cauldness in her manner which I couldna understan'.
"_Will_ ye stap in a bit?" she added, hesitatingly and evidently wi'
reluctance. Weel, she used to fling her arms aboot me, and pu' me in.
But it was noo, "_Will_ ye step in?" I did, but sune saw there was
something wrang; but what it was I couldna conjecture. I overheard her
husband and dochters _refusin_ Mrs. Robertson's request to them to come
ben and see me. They used to a' rush aboot me, like a torrent. In short,
I perceived that I was a very unwelcome visitor, and that a speedy
retreat on my part wad be highly approved of. Amongst other hints o'
this, was Mrs. Robertson's scarcely speakin three words to me a' the
time I sat wi' her, and no makin ony offer o' the sma'est refreshment.
Her behaviour to me was a'thegither exceedinly strange and mysterious;
but what struck me as maist singular, was her aye speakin o' my faither
wi' a compassionatin air. "Puir, puir man!" she wad say; "Gude help us!
it's a weary warl' this! Ane canna tell what their weans are to come to.
Muckle grief and sorrow, I'm sure, do they bring to parents' hearts."
These truths bein obvious and general, I couldna deny them, although I
was greatly at a loss to see ony par