ere
was no end to her objurgations, exclamations, anathemas, and
interjections.

"Now I can leave you in peace, my lady!" said Donal, who had not
resumed his seat.

"Noo ye can bide whaur ye are, an' be thankfu'!" said mistress Brookes.
"Wha daur meddle wi' ye, an' me i' the hoose! An' wha kens what the mad
yerl, for mad I s' uphaud him, an' fit only to be lockit up--wha kens
what he may do neist! Maister Grant, I cannot lat ye oot o' the hoose."

"I was only going as far as mistress Comin's," replied Donal.

"Weel, ye can gang; but min' ye're hame i' gude time!"

"I thought of putting up there, but I will do as my lady pleases."

"Come home," said Arctura.

Donal went, and the first person he saw when he entered the house was
Eppy. She turned instantly away, and left the room: he could not help
seeing why.

The old woman welcomed him with her usual cordiality, but not her usual
cheerfulness: he had scarcely noted since her husband's death any
change on her manner till now: she looked weary of the world.

She sat down, smoothed her apron on her knees, gave him one glance in
the face, then looked down at her hands, and said nothing.

"I ken what ails ye, Doory," said Donal; "but i' the name o' him 'at's
awa', hearken til me.--The lass is no lost, naither is the Lord asleep.
Yer lamb 's been sair misguidit, sair pluckit o' her bonny woo', but
gien for that she haud the closer by the Lord's flock, she'll ken it
wasna for want o' his care the tod got a grup o' her. It's a terrible
pity for the bonny cratur, disgracin' them 'at aucht her! What for
winna yoong fowk believe them 'at speyks true, but wull believe them
'at tells them little but lees! Still, it's no as gien she had been
stealin'! She's wrangt her puir sel', an' she's wrangt us a', an' she's
wrangt the Lord; but for a' that ye canna luik doon upon her as upo'
the man 'at's grown rich at the cost o' his neebours. There's mony a
gran' prood leddy 'ill hae to stan' aside to lat Eppy pass up, whan
we're 'afore the richteous judge."

"Eh, but ye speyk like my Anerew!" cried the poor woman, wiping her old
eyes with her rough apron. "I s' do what I can for her; but there's no
hidin' o' 't!"

"Hidin' o' 't!" cried Donal. "The Lord forbid! Sic things are no to be
hidden! Sae lang 's she 's i' the warl', the thing has to be kenned o'
a' 'at come nigh her. She maun beir her burden, puir lass! The Lord
he'll lichten 't til her, but he'll hae naething smugglet u