atches I let slip through my hands, and a' for the love o' James
Laidlaw who was far awa, and the vows he had plighted to me by the side
o' the Blackadder. And, although he hadna written to me for some years,
I couldna think that ony man could be so wicked as to write words o'
falsehood and bind them up in the volume o' everlasting truth.

But, about ten years after he had gane awa, James Laidlaw came back to
our neighbourhood; but he wasna the same lad he left--for he was now a
dark-complexioned man, and he had wi' him a mulatto woman, and three
bairns that called him _faither!_ He was no longer my James!

My mother was by this time dead, and I expected naething but that the
knowledge o' his faithlessness would kill me too--for I had clung to
hope till the last straw was broken.

I met him once during his stay in the country, and, strange to tell, it
was within a hundred yards o' the very spot where I first foregathered
wi' him, when he offered me the posie.

'Ha! Die!' said he, 'my old girl, are you still alive? I'm glad to see
you. Is the old woman, your mother, living yet?' I was ready to faint,
my heart throbbed as though it would have burst. A' the trials I had
ever had were naething to this; and he continued--'Why, if I remember
right, there was once something like an old flame between you and me.'
'O James! James!' said I, 'do you remember the words ye wrote in the
Bible, and the vows that ye made me by the side of the Blackadder?'
'Ha! ha!' said he, and he laughed, 'you are there, are you? I do mind
something of it. But, Die, I did not think that a girl like you would
have been such a fool as to remember what a boy said to her.'

I would have spoken to him again; but I remembered he was the husband
of another woman--though she was a mulatto--an' I hurried away as fast
as my fainting heart would permit. I had but one consolation, and that
was, that, though he had married another, naebody could compare her face
wi' mine.

But it was lang before I got the better o' this sair slight--ay, I may
say it was ten years and mair; and I had to try to pingle and find a
living upon the interest o' my five hundred pounds, wi' ony other thing
that I could turn my hand to in a genteel sort o' way.

I was now getting on the wrang side o' eight and thirty; and that is an
age when it isna prudent in a spinister to be throwing the pouty side o'
her lip to any decent lad that hauds out his hand, and says--'Jenny,
will ye tak