into a
shoe, pulled them out and put them on, breaking one of the leather
latchets, and muttering in anger, "I never did the like o' that
afore!"

I believe he never did; nor after either. "Rab!" he said, roughly,
and, pointing with his thumb to the bottom of the bed. Rab leaped up
and settled himself, his head and eye to the dead face. "Maister John,
ye'll wait for me," said the carrier; and disappeared in the darkness,
thundering down-stairs in his heavy shoes. I ran to a front window;
there he was, already round the house and out at the gate, fleeing
like a shadow.

I was afraid about him, and yet not afraid; so I sat down beside Rab,
and, being wearied, fell asleep. I awoke from a sudden noise outside.
It was November, and there had been a heavy fall of snow. Rab was _in
statu quo_; he heard the noise, too, and plainly knew it, but never
moved. I looked out; and there, at the gate, in the dim morning--for
the sun was not up--was Jess and the cart, a cloud of steam rising
from the old mare. I did not see James; he was already at the door,
and came up the stairs and met me. It was less than three hours since
he left, and he must have posted out--who knows how?--to Howgate, full
nine miles off, yoked Jess, and driven her astonished into town. He
had an armful of blankets, and was streaming with perspiration. He
nodded to me, and spread out on the floor two pairs of clean old
blankets having at their corners, "A.G., 1794," in large letters in
red worsted. These were the initials of Alison Graeme, and James may
have looked in at her from without--himself unseen but not unthought
of--when he was "wat, wat, and weary," and, after having walked many
a mile over the hills, may have seen her sitting, while "a' the lave
were sleeping," and by the firelight working her name on the blankets
for her ain James's bed.

He motioned Rab down, and, taking his wife in his arms, laid her in
the blankets, and happed her carefully and firmly up, leaving the face
uncovered; and then, lifting her, he nodded again sharply to me, and
with a resolved but utterly miserable face strode along the passage
and down-stairs, followed by Rab. I followed with a light; but he
didn't need it. I went out, holding stupidly the candle in my hand in
the calm, frosty air; we were soon at the gate. I could have helped
him, but I saw he was not to be meddled with, and he was strong, and
did not need it. He laid her down as tenderly, as safely, as he had
li