filling
of the vacant chair the inhabitants of Marchlaw.

"Excuse me, sir! excuse me, sir!" said Peter, the words trembling upon
his tongue; "but ye cannot--ye cannot sit there!"

"O man! man!" cried Mrs. Elliot, "get out o' that! get out o'
that!--take my chair!--take ony chair i' the house!--but dinna, dinna
sit there! It has never been sat in by mortal being since the death o'
my dear bairn!--and to see it filled by another is a thing I canna
endure!"

"Sir! sir!" continued the father, "ye have done it through ignorance,
and we excuse ye. But that was my Thomas's seat! Twelve years this very
day--his birthday--he perished, Heaven kens how! He went out from our
sight, like the cloud that passes over the hills--never--never to
return. And, O sir, spare a father's feelings! for to see it filled
wrings the blood from my heart!"

"Give me your hand, my worthy soul!" exclaimed the seaman; "I
revere--nay, hang it! I would die for your feelings! But Tom Elliot was
my friend, and I cast anchor in this chair by special commission. I know
that a sudden broadside of joy is a bad thing; but, as I don't know how
to preach a sermon before telling you, all I have to say is--that Tom
an't dead."

"Not dead!" said Peter, grasping the hand of the stranger, and speaking
with an eagerness that almost choked his utterance: "O sir! sir! tell me
how!--how!--Did ye say, living?--Is my ain Thomas living?"

"Not dead, do ye say?" cried Mrs. Elliot, hurrying towards him and
grasping his other hand--"not dead! And shall I see my bairn again? Oh!
may the blessing o' Heaven, and the blessing o' a broken-hearted mother
be upon the bearer o' the gracious tidings! But tell me--tell me, how is
it possible! As ye would expect happiness here or hereafter, dinna,
dinna deceive me!"

"Deceive you!" returned the stranger, grasping, with impassioned
earnestness, their hands in his--"Never!--never! and all I can say
is--Tom Elliot is alive and hearty."

"No, no!" said Elizabeth, rising from her seat, "he does not deceive us;
there is that in his countenance which bespeaks a falsehood impossible."
And she also endeavoured to move towards him, when Johnson threw his arm
around her to withhold her.

"Hands off, you land-lubber!" exclaimed the seaman, springing towards
them, "or, shiver me! I'll show daylight through your timbers in the
turning of a hand-spike!" And, clasping the lovely girl in his arms,
"Betty! Betty, my love!" he cried, "don't you