throuw the merits o' oor Saviour
Jesus Christ, at the heid o' the table there. Amen."'

Half ashamed of his long speech, half overcome by the feelings fighting
within him, and altogether bewildered, Robert burst out crying like a
baby, and ran out of the room--up to his own place of meditation, where
he threw himself on the floor. Shargar, who had made neither head nor
tail of it all, as he said afterwards, sat staring at Mrs. Falconer. She
rose, and going into Robert's little bedroom, closed the door, and what
she did there is not far to seek.

When she came out, she rang the bell for tea, and sent Shargar to look
for Robert. When he appeared, she was so gentle to him that it woke
quite a new sensation in him. But after tea was over, she said:

'Noo, Robert, lat's hae nae mair o' this. Ye ken as weel 's I du that
them 'at gangs there their doom is fixed, and noething can alter 't. An'
we're not to alloo oor ain fancies to cairry 's ayont the Scripter. We
hae oor ain salvation to work oot wi' fear an' trimlin'. We hae naething
to do wi' what's hidden. Luik ye till 't 'at ye win in yersel'. That's
eneuch for you to min'.--Shargar, ye can gang to the kirk. Robert's to
bide wi' me the nicht.'

Mrs. Falconer very rarely went to church, for she could not hear a word,
and found it irksome.

When Robert and she were alone together,

'Laddie,' she said, 'be ye waure o' judgin' the Almichty. What luiks
to you a' wrang may be a' richt. But it's true eneuch 'at we dinna ken
a'thing; an' he's no deid yet--I dinna believe 'at he is--and he'll
maybe win in yet.'

Here her voice failed her. And Robert had nothing to say now. He had
said all his say before.

'Pray, Robert, pray for yer father, laddie,' she resumed; 'for we hae
muckle rizzon to be anxious aboot 'im. Pray while there's life an' houp.
Gie the Lord no rist. Pray till 'im day an' nicht, as I du, that he wad
lead 'im to see the error o' his ways, an' turn to the Lord, wha's ready
to pardon. Gin yer mother had lived, I wad hae had mair houp, I confess,
for she was a braw leddy and a bonny, and that sweet-tongued! She cud
hae wiled a maukin frae its lair wi' her bonnie Hielan' speech. I never
likit to hear nane o' them speyk the Erse (Irish, that is, Gaelic), it
was aye sae gloggie and baneless; and I cudna unnerstan' ae word o'
't. Nae mair cud yer father--hoot! yer gran'father, I mean--though his
father cud speyk it weel. But to hear yer mother--mamma, as ye used to