is a dour man of nearly
twice her years. An honest man? Well, I have never heard him accused
of dishonesty. A hard man he has been called, but he suits our
thriftless laird all the better for that. He has kept his place as
factor at Blackhills for fifteen years and more, and has grown rich,
they say--as riches are counted among folk who for the most part are
poor. And he is respected--in a way."

"Well, if I had been asked about it, I would have said that it was a
rise in the world for Allie Bain to be made the mistress of the factor's
fine house over yonder. I suppose he might have looked for a wife in
almost any of the better families of the countryside, without much
chance of being refused."

"Yes, but he is said to have set his heart on Allison Bain years ago
when she was only a child--a strange-like thing for such a man to do.
He went to work warily, and got her father and even her mother on his
side--or so it is said. But Allie herself would have naught to say to
him. She laughed at first, and then she scoffed at his advances, and
Willie, her only brother, upheld her in her scorning--for a while. But
Willie went wrong--and from bad to worse; but now he is in the tollbooth
at Aberdeen, as you have heard. But I believe that even now the poor
lassie would have a fairer chance of a peaceful life if they were to get
away to begin again together, when his time is over, than ever she can
hope for in the house of her husband. And the lad would be stronger,
and have a better chance with his sister's help. I fear--though I would
say it to none but you--I fear that Allison's consent was won at last by
no fair means."

"I mind Willie, a nice little lad, merry and frank and well-doing. I
should never have thought of such a fate for him."

"Yes, frank he was, and a fine lad in many ways; but he was not of a
strong will, and was easily led away. Allison was far the stronger of
the two, even when they were children. It breaks my heart to think what
a woman she might have become in favourable circumstances, and now, I
fear, she has much suffering before her. Her mother's helplessness--she
was bedridden for years before she died--laid too much on Allison, and
she has grown changed, they say, and hard. She was ay more like her
father than her mother, except for her sweet looks."

"And how came the marriage about at last? And where was her brother?"

"He had fallen into trouble by that time. He had got in wit