bairnie," Mrs. MacDougall whispered; "but sairly
altered, sairly changed."

"He couldn't have been worse than he's been," the nurse said, drawing
them a little way from the bed. "The delirium was just dreadful to see!
But that's past, and we only want him to rally. He's about exhausted
now, and must be kept quiet. I would not like him to open his eyes and
find you by his side. By my will you would not have been admitted."

"Then I'll go directly," Mrs. MacDougall said, quickly. "I will no beg
you to be kind to my bairn, for I can trust your face; but I will pray
for you to be rewarded for every act o' kindness done to a poor lost
little one. When can I come again?"

"To-morrow's the right day. You can come then," the nurse replied.

"I'll be near at hand, an' they'll let me know if a bad change comes,"
Mrs. MacDougall said hurriedly. "I'll get the nearest lodging to be
had."

When the clothes of the child had been duly identified, the officer and
Mrs. MacDougall departed. "I shall no leave this place to-night," Mrs.
MacDougall said, firmly. "The lass is safe and sound, and Duncan may be
dying. I must be near by."

So a decent lodging was found, in which Mrs. MacDougall took up her
quarters, having first taken her address to the matron, who promised her
that she should be sent for if immediate danger developed itself. The
officer was somewhat puzzled by Mrs. MacDougall's determination; but as
his instructions were to proceed with the identification of both
children, he determined to go on to London at once, armed with the most
minute description Mrs. MacDougall could give him of the missing child.

It is needless to say that the description tallied perfectly. As,
however, the examination of John and Lucy Murdoch, known to us by the
name of Donaldson, was expected to take place in a day or two, the
officer remained in London, waiting to obtain Elsie's full discharge,
which could not be hoped for until after this important event.

Mrs. MacDougall was acquainted with her perfect safety, and as Duncan
remained on the brink of the grave, she did not, for the present,
attempt to leave Edinburgh.

CHAPTER XXI.--BEFORE THE MAGISTRATE.

On a certain morning, not long after her first appearance before the
magistrate, Elsie was once more brought into court. She had hailed the
appearance of her old acquaintance with something approaching delight,
for any change was a welcome one from the hard, dreary, monotonous life