on, and the open tracery around the niche, was
completely hid from observation. The private passage, confined to its
pristine breadth, had originally continued beyond this seat; but the
jealous precautions of the vagabonds who frequented the cave of St. Ruth
had caused them to build it carefully up with hewn stones from the ruin.

"We shall be better here," said Edie, seating himself on the stone
bench, and stretching the lappet of his blue gown upon the spot, when he
motioned Lovel to sit down beside him--"we shall be better here than doun
below; the air's free and mild, and the savour of the wallflowers, and
siccan shrubs as grow on thae ruined wa's, is far mair refreshing than
the damp smell doun below yonder. They smell sweetest by night-time thae
flowers, and they're maist aye seen about rained buildings. Now, Maister
Lovel, can ony o' you scholars gie a gude reason for that?"

Lovel replied in the negative.

"I am thinking," resumed the beggar, "that they'll be, like mony folk's
gude gifts, that often seem maist gracious in adversity--or maybe it's a
parable, to teach us no to slight them that are in the darkness of sin
and the decay of tribulation, since God sends odours to refresh the
mirkest hour, and flowers and pleasant bushes to clothe the ruined
buildings. And now I wad like a wise man to tell me whether Heaven is
maist pleased wi' the sight we are looking upon--thae pleasant and quiet
lang streaks o' moonlight that are lying sae still on the floor o' this
auld kirk, and glancing through the great pillars and stanchions o' the
carved windows, and just dancing like on the leaves o' the dark ivy as
the breath o' wind shakes it--I wonder whether this is mair pleasing to
Heaven than when it was lighted up wi' lamps, and candles nae doubt, and
roughies,* and wi' the mirth and the frankincent that they speak of in
the Holy Scripture, and wi' organs assuredly, and men and women singers,
and sackbuts, and dulcimers, and a' instruments o' music--I wonder
if that was acceptable, or whether it is of these grand parafle o'
ceremonies that holy writ says, It is an abomination to me.

* Links, or torches.

I am thinking, Maister Lovel, if twa puir contrite spirits like yours
and mine fand grace to make our petition"--

Here Lovel laid his hand eagerly on the mendicant's arm, saying,--"Hush!
I heard some one speak."

"I am dull o' hearing," answered Edie, in a whisper, "but we're surely
safe here--where was the sou