e, for the lady
was now better.

"What has she got?" inquired Simon.

"Two beautiful boys as ever I saw," answered the wife; "--but one of them
is dead, and the mother is very weak."

While this and some other conversation passed between the farmer and his
wife, the man and the woman were busy whispering at the other end of the
house; but they at length approached the hearth and partook of some
refreshment which had been prepared for them. The farmer offered the
female, for the remainder of the night, the use of their only other bed;
but both the man and the woman objected to this proposition--saying, that
they preferred to sit by the hearth and attend to their mistress, and
requesting that their hosts should retire to it themselves. This they did,
and soon both fell into a sound sleep. Helen awoke about two hours
afterwards, and, to her astonishment, found that neither of the two
attendants was in the cottage. She arose and went to the bed of the sick
lady, who lay apparently in a deep and troubled sleep, with the babe in her
bosom. She looked for the body of its brother; but it was gone. She felt
alarmed, and gently awaking Simon, in a whisper told him to arise. He was
soon dressed, and, on going out, found that the strangers were gone, the
horses were away, and with them everything that had been brought, even to
the dress the lady had worn upon her arrival. In great anxiety they
approached the bed: the lady still appeared in a deep sleep; her breathing
was heavy and laborious, every attempt to awaken her was in vain; her eyes
were opened and closed unconsciously, and without a word of utterance.

"Surely," said Helen, with clasped hands, "that woman hasna poisoned the
puir young creature wi' that mixture she requested me to gie her just
before I ca'ed you into the house. She said it was to compose her to sleep.
She had offered it to the lady hersel, who, being afraid o' her, wadna
taste it. Then she gave me the cup, and I offered it. O Simon! what a
piteous look she threw upon me, as she said, 'From you I will take
anything; you, I know, will not do me harm'--and she drank it from my
hands. Surely, surely, I am not guilty of her blood, if death was in that
cup!"

Here the poor woman sank upon the side of the bed in a passion of tears,
while Simon stood the image of horror, gazing alternately upon his wife and
the unconscious lady in the bed. Sinking upon his knees, he prayed for
counsel in this hour of distress,