tear him from me with your man's strength, for he's mine as well as
yours; and he's my last, my only jewel."

And Nelly sat bolt upright, her rosy burden contrasting with her young,
faded face, and her large eyes beginning to flame like those of a wild
beast about to be robbed of its young.

"Oh no, Nelly, no," groaned Staneholme, covering his face; "I heard of
your distress, and I came but to speer of your welfare." And he made a
motion to withdraw.

But Nelly's heart smote her for the wrong her rash words had done him--a
wayworn, conscience-smitten man--and she recalled him relentingly.

"Ye may have meant well. I bear you no ill-will; I am stricken myself.
Take a look at your laddie, Adam Home, before ye gang."

He advanced when she bade him, and received the child from her arms; but
with such pause and hesitation that it might have seemed he thought more
of his hands again meeting poor Nelly Carnegie's, and of her breath
fanning his cheek, than of the precious load she magnanimously intrusted
to him. He did look at the infant in his awkward grasp, but it was with
a stifled sigh of disappointment.

"He may be a braw bairn, Nelly--I know not--but he has no look of
yours."

"Na, he's a Home every inch of him, my bonny boy!" Nelly assented,
eagerly. After a moment she turned her head, and added peevishly, "I'm a
sick woman, and ye needna mind what I say; I'm no fit for company. Good
day; but mind, I've forgotten and forgiven, and wish my bairn's father
well."

"Nanny Swinton," called Nelly to her faithful nurse, as she lay awake on
her bed, deep in the sober dimness of the summer night, "think you that
Staneholme will be booted and spurred with the sun, riding through the
Loudons to Lauderdale?"

"It's like, Lady Staneholme," answered Nanny, drowsily. "The keep o' man
and beast is heavy in the town, and he'll be tain to look on his ain
house, and greet the folk at home after these mony months beyond the
seas. Preserve him and ilka kindly Scot from fell Popish notions rife
yonder!"

"A miserable comforter are you, Nanny Swinton," muttered her mistress,
as she hushed her child, and pressed her fevered lips to each tiny
feature.

VIII.--THE RECONCILIATION AND RETURN TO STANEHOLME.

But Staneholme came again in broad light, the next day--the next--and
the next, with half excuses and vague talk of business. Lady Carnegie
did not interdict his visits, or blame his weakness and inconsistency,
for they were se