drap o' whuskey, Jean, ye're flyin' oot o' yer heid. It's the
hystiricks she's takin'."

"Ah, no! What is it, Aunt Jean? What is it?" cried Hester, eagerly,
drawing her to the seat by her side again.

"It's no the hystiricks," cried Jean, rocking back and forth and
patting her hands on her knees and speaking between laughing and
crying. "It's the truth at last, that I've been lyin' aboot these
three lang years, thank the Lord!"

"Jean, is it thankin' the Lord ye are, for lyin'?"

"Ellen, ye mind whan ye broke ye'r leg an' lay in the south chamber
that lang sax months?"

"Aye, weel do I mind it."

"Lat be wi' ye're interruptin' while I tell't. He came here."

"Who came here?"

"Richard--the poor lad! He tell't me all aboot it. How he had a mad
anger on him, an' kill't his cousin Peter Junior whan they'd been like
brithers all their lives, an' hoo he pushed him over the brink o' a
gre't precipice to his death, an' hoo he must forever flee fra' the
law an' his uncle's wrath. Noo it's--"

"Oh, Aunt Jean!" cried Hester, despairingly. "Don't you see that what
you say only goes to prove my husband right? Yet how could he claim to
be Peter--it--it's not like the boy. Richard never, never would--"

"He may ha' been oot o' his heid thinkin' he pushed him over the
brink. I ha'e na much opeenion o' the judgment o' a man ony way. They
never know whan to be set, an' whan to gie in. Think shame to yersel',
Jean, to be hidin' things fra me the like o' that an' then lyin' to
me."

"He was repentit, Ellen. Ye can na' tak the power o' the Lord in yer
ain han's an' gie a man up to the law whan he's repentit. If ye'd seen
him an' heard the words o' him and seen him greet, ye would ha' hid
him in yer hairt an' covered wi' the mantle o' charity, as I did.
Moreover, I saved ye from dour lyin' yersel'. Ye mind whan that man
that Peter sent here to find Richard came, hoo ye said till him that
Richard had never been here? Ye never knew why for that man wanted
Richard, but I knew an' I never tell't ye. An' if ye had known what I
knew, ye never could ha' tell't him what ye did so roundly an' sent
him aboot his business wi' a straight face."

"An' noo whaur is Richard?"

"He's awa' in Paris pentin' pictures. He went there to learn to be a
penter."

"An' whaur gat he the money to go wi'? There's whaur the new black
silk dress went ye should ha' bought yersel' that year. Ye lat me
think it went to the doctor. Child! Child!"

"Yes,