foolish request, I had still
another wish ungratified, and that was, in case my arguments should
fail, as they have done, that you would carry along with you some
remembrance of her whom you once professed to love. This is woman's
weakness, but perhaps you will pardon it; and perhaps you will keep the
gift, though no better than a child's bauble, for the sake of the
giver."

"I will--I will!" interrupted George, eagerly, whilst he took her hand.

"I am half ashamed of it," she continued; "it is only a small sampler,
on which, shortly after leaving school, I sewed your father and mother's
names at full length, and yours, and--and mine--I may tell you this now,
when we are about to part, perhaps for ever. No one ever saw me put a
stitch in it. Will you keep it for my sake?"

"While life remains," said the lover; "run, my love, and bring it, that
I may place it in my bosom."

"It is here already," said she, "and that is the reason why I wished our
meeting to be in this place. Fearing lest my father should come home,
and prevent me getting it from the house, I brought it out and concealed
it here."

With these words, she made a few steps aside; and, as she stooped down
to bring her little keepsake from under the empty sacks which covered
it, instead of returning with it, she started and screamed. George flew
to her assistance. Something seemed stirring among the sacks, as if an
animal had been attempting to rise; he laid hold of it, and dragged a
heavy body after him to the door. The moon, which was now up, showed his
burden to be a man; and, grasping him by the collar--"Scoundrel!" he
said, "what business had you there?" then, turning him round to have a
better view of his face--"Duncan!" he added--his anger in some measure
yielding to surprise--"I had nearly given you a thrashing; but you have
been our guest, and assisted us in our difficulties, and I must hear
from your own lips that you are guilty, before I pass sentence upon
you." With these words he quitted his grasp.

The blood flushed Duncan's cheek, and for some seconds he seemed
uncertain whether to offer resistance or sue for peace. At last he
said--holding out his hand, which the other as frankly took--"If you had
_thrashed_ me, it would have been no more than I deserved. But perhaps
you shall have no reason afterwards to repent of having spared yourself
this labour; for, though I had my own reasons for doing as I have
done"--

These words were spoken