r only
wi' 'im wharever he is!'

She burst into tears, but dried her eyes a moment after, and seeing that
Robert still lingered, said,

'Gang, Robert, an' sen' Mistress Downie to me. Dinna greit--there's a
gude lad; but tak yer fiddle an' gang. Ye can be no more use.'

Robert obeyed. With his violin in his hand, he went home; and, with his
violin still in his hand, walked into his grandmother's parlour.

'Hoo daur ye bring sic a thing into my hoose?' she said, roused by the
apparent defiance of her grandson. 'Hoo daur ye, efter what's come an'
gane?'

''Cause Dooble Sanny's come and gane, grannie, and left naething but
this ahint him. And this ane's mine, whase ever the ither micht be. His
wife's left wi'oot a plack, an' I s' warran' the gude fowk o' Rothieden
winna mak sae muckle o' her noo 'at her man's awa'; for she never was
sic a randy as he was, an' the triumph o' grace in her 's but sma',
therefore. Sae I maun mak the best 'at I can o' the fiddle for her. An'
ye maunna touch this ane, grannie; for though ye way think it richt
to burn fiddles, ither fowk disna; and this has to do wi' ither fowk,
grannie; it's no atween you an' me, ye ken,' Robert went on, fearful
lest she might consider herself divinely commissioned to extirpate the
whole race of stringed instruments,--'for I maun sell 't for her.'

'Tak it oot o' my sicht,' said Mrs. Falconer, and said no more.

He carried the instrument up to his room, laid it on his bed, locked his
door, put the key in his pocket, and descended to the parlour.

'He's deid, is he?' said his grandmother, as he re-entered.

'Ay is he, grannie,' answered Robert. 'He deid a repentant man.'

'An' a believin'?' asked Mrs. Falconer.

'Weel, grannie, I canna say 'at he believed a' thing 'at ever was, for a
body michtna ken a' thing.'

'Toots, laddie! Was 't savin' faith?'

'I dinna richtly ken what ye mean by that; but I'm thinkin' it was
muckle the same kin' o' faith 'at the prodigal had; for they baith rase
an' gaed hame.'

''Deed, maybe ye're richt, laddie,' returned Mrs. Falconer, after a
moment's thought. 'We'll houp the best.'

All the remainder of the evening she sat motionless, with her eyes
fixed on the rug before her, thinking, no doubt, of the repentance and
salvation of the fiddler, and what hope there might yet be for her own
lost son.

The next day being Saturday, Robert set out for Bodyfauld, taking the
violin with him. He went alone, for he was in no