a lee. He's an ill-faured scoonrel no to come till 's mither an'
bid her gude-bye, an' her gaein' to hell.'

'Gin ye speir at Christ, he'll tak ye oot o' the verra mou' o' hell,
wuman.'

'Christ! wha's that? Ow, ay! It's him 'at they preach aboot i' the
kirks. Na, na. There's nae gude o' that. There's nae time to repent noo.
I doobt sic repentance as mine wadna gang for muckle wi' the likes o'
him.'

'The likes o' him 's no to be gotten. He cam to save the likes o' you
an' me.'

'The likes o' you an' me! said ye, laddie? There's no like atween you
and me. He'll hae naething to say to me, but gang to hell wi' ye for a
bitch.'

'He never said sic a word in 's life. He wad say, "Poor thing! she was
ill-used. Ye maunna sin ony mair. Come, and I'll help ye." He wad say
something like that. He'll save a body whan she wadna think it.'

'An' I hae gien my bonnie bairn to the deevil wi' my ain han's! She'll
come to hell efter me to girn at me, an' set them on me wi' their reid
het taings, and curse me. Och hone! och hone!'

'Hearken to me,' said Falconer, with as much authority as he could
assume. But she rolled herself over again in the corner, and lay
groaning.

'Tell me whaur she is,' said Falconer, 'and I'll tak her oot o' their
grup, whaever they be.'

She sat up again, and stared at him for a few moments without speaking.

'I left her wi' a wuman waur nor mysel',' she said at length. 'God
forgie me.'

'He will forgie ye, gin ye tell me whaur she is.'

'Do ye think he will? Eh, Maister Faukner! The wuman bides in a coort
off o' Clare Market. I dinna min' upo' the name o' 't, though I cud
gang till 't wi' my een steekit. Her name's Widow Walker--an auld
rowdie--damn her sowl!'

'Na, na, ye maunna say that gin ye want to be forgien yersel'. I'll fin'
her oot. An' I'm thinkin' it winna be lang or I hae a grup o' her. I'm
gaein' back to Lonnon in twa days or three.'

'Dinna gang till I'm deid. Bide an' haud the deevil aff o' me. He has a
grup o' my hert noo, rivin' at it wi' his lang nails--as lang 's birds'
nebs.'

'I'll bide wi' ye till we see what can be dune for ye. What's the
maitter wi' ye? I'm a doctor noo.'

There was not a chair or box or stool on which to sit down. He therefore
kneeled beside her. He felt her pulse, questioned her, and learned that
she had long been suffering from an internal complaint, which had within
the last week grown rapidly worse. He saw that there was no hope of her
rec