and the hill was all the same, save that its pines had
grown. His chief mission was to John Hewson and his wife. When he left
for the continent, he was not so utterly absorbed in his own griefs as
to forget Jessie. He told her story to Dr. Anderson, and the good man
had gone to see her the same day.

In the evening, when he knew he should find them both at home, he
walked into the cottage. They were seated by the fire, with the same pot
hanging on the same crook for their supper. They rose, and asked him
to sit down, but did not know him. When he told them who he was, they
greeted him warmly, and John Hewson smiled something of the old smile,
but only like it, for it had no 'rays proportionately delivered' from
his mouth over his face.

After a little indifferent chat, Robert said,

'I came through Aberdeen yesterday, John.'

At the very mention of Aberdeen, John's head sunk. He gave no answer,
but sat looking in the fire. His wife rose and went to the other end of
the room, busying herself quietly about the supper. Robert thought it
best to plunge into the matter at once.

'I saw Jessie last nicht,' he said.

Still there was no reply. John's face had grown hard as a stone face,
but Robert thought rather from the determination to govern his feelings
than from resentment.

'She's been doin' weel ever sin' syne,' he added.

Still no word from either; and Robert fearing some outburst of
indignation ere he had said his say, now made haste.

'She's been a servant wi' Dr. Anderson for four year noo, an' he's sair
pleased wi' her. She's a fine woman. But her bairnie's deid, an' that
was a sair blow till her.'

He heard a sob from the mother, but still John made no sign.

'It was a bonnie bairnie as ever ye saw. It luikit in her face, she
says, as gin it kent a' aboot it, and had only come to help her throu
the warst o' 't; for it gaed hame 'maist as sune's ever she was
richt able to thank God for sen'in' her sic an angel to lead her to
repentance.'

'John,' said his wife, coming behind his chair, and laying her hand on
his shoulder, 'what for dinna ye speyk? Ye hear what Maister Faukner
says.--Ye dinna think a thing's clean useless 'cause there may be a spot
upo' 't?' she added, wiping her eyes with her apron.

'A spot upo' 't?' cried John, starting to his feet. 'What ca' ye a
spot?--Wuman, dinna drive me mad to hear ye lichtlie the glory o'
virginity.'

'That's a' verra weel, John,' interposed Robert quietl