side he wished it closed from.

"Ye was some sair upo' me, Ma'colm," he went on, grasping the youth's
hand.

"I doobt I was _ower_ sair," said Malcolm, who could hardly speak for a
lump in his throat.

"Weel, I deserved it. But eh, Ma'colm! I canna believe it was me: it bude
to be the drink."

"It _was_ the drink," rejoined Malcolm; "an' eh, sir, afore ye rise frae
that bed sweir to the great God 'at ye'll never drink nae mair drams, nor
onything 'ayont ae tum'ler at a sittin'."

"I sweir 't, I sweir 't, Ma'colm!" cried the factor.

"It's easy to sweir 't noo, sir, but whan ye're up again it'll be hard to
keep yer aith.--O Lord!" spoke the youth, breaking out into almost
involuntary prayer, "help this man to haud troth wi' Thee!--An' noo,
Maister Crathie," he resumed, "I'm yer servan', ready to du onything I
can. Forgi'e me, sir, for layin' on ower sair."

"I forgi'e ye wi' a' my hert," returned the factor, inly delighted to have
something to forgive.

"I thank ye frae mine," answered Malcolm, and again they shook hands.

"But eh, Ma'colm, my man!" he added, "hoo will I ever shaw my face again?"

"Fine that!" returned Malcolm, eagerly. "Fowk's terrible guid-natur'd whan
ye alloo 'at ye're 'i the wrang. I do believe 'at whan a man confesses
till 's neebor an' says he's sorry, he thinks mair o' 'im nor afore he did
it. Ye see we a' ken we hae dune wrang, but we haena' a' confessed. An'
it's a queer thing, but a man 'll think it gran' o' 's neebor to confess,
when a' the time there's something he winna repent o' himsel', for fear o'
the _shame_ o' haein to confess 't. To me, the shame lies in _no_
confessin' efter ye ken ye're wrang. Ye'll see, sir, the fisher-fowk 'll
min' what ye say to them a heap better noo."

"Div ye railly think it, Ma'colm?" sighed the factor with a flush.

"I div that, sir. Only whan ye grow better, gien ye'll alloo me to say't,
sir, ye maunna lat Sawtan temp' ye to think 'at this same repentin' was
but a wakeness o' the flesh, an' no an enlichtenment o' the speerit."

"I s' tie mysel' up till 't," cried the factor eagerly. "Gang an' tell
them i' my name 'at I tak back ilka scart o' a nottice I ever gae ane o'
them to quit, only we maun hae nae mair stan'in' o' honest fowk 'at comes
to bigg herbors till them. Div ye think it wad be weel ta'en gien ye tuik
a poun'-nott the piece to the twa women?"

"I wadna du that, sir, gien I was you," answered Malcolm. "For yer ain
sake, I wadna t