jorie by the way of the manse, and several
times during the winter a little letter came to Robin or to John,
written with great care and pains by her own hand. She was very happy,
she said, and she had not forgotten them; and by and by she hoped to be
able to tell them that she was growing strong and well.

Twice or thrice during the winter Brownrig made his appearance at the
office of Mr Swinton. He had, each time, something to say about
business, but apparently the laird had changed his mind about the
building of the new wing, for nothing more was to be done for the
present.

John could not help thinking that his chief reason for coming there was
to see him, in the hope that he might hear something about William Bain.
More than once he brought his name into their talk, asking if Mr
Beaton had heard anything of him, and hoping that he was doing well. On
his second visit, meeting John in the street, he turned and walked with
him, and told him that one of the lads who had sailed with Bain had been
heard from by his friends. The ship had been disabled in a storm before
they were half-way over, and had gone far out of her course, but had got
safely into a southern port at last.

The passengers had gone their several ways probably, and lost sight of
one another, for this lad could tell nothing of Bain, though he had
himself safely reached the town where Mr Hadden, the minister's son,
lived, and to which Bain had also intended to go. "I thought perhaps
you or your friend might have had some word from him, as you had taken
some trouble to help him," said Brownrig.

"No, that is not at all likely," said John, "at least as far as I am
concerned. Neither likely nor possible. He never saw me, nor I him.
He never, to my knowledge, heard my name, and it was only by chance that
I ever heard his. But I will give you the name of the man who used to
go to the tollbooth on Sunday afternoons. It is just possible, though
not very likely, that he may have heard from him."

John wrote the name and address, and gave it to him.

"Have you been at the shipping office for news?" said he.

Yes, Brownrig had been there, and had been told that the ship was
refitting in the American port, and would soon be home, but that, was
all he had heard. Whenever it was possible to do so, John kept out of
the man's way. He had spoken to him nothing but the truth, yet he could
not help feeling like a deceiver. And though he told himself that