e broad Lowland blue
bonnet, thrown back as he lifted his eyes to Heaven in speechless
gratitude--the grey locks that straggled from beneath it down his
weather-beaten "haffets"--the bald and furrowed forehead--the clear blue
eye, that, undimmed by years, gleamed bright and pale from under its
shaggy grey pent-house--the features, usually so stern and stoical, now
melted into the unwonted expression of rapturous joy, affection, and
gratitude--were all those of David Deans; and so happily did they assort
together, that, should I ever again see my friends Wilkie or Allan, I
will try to borrow or steal from them a sketch of this very scene.

"Jeanie--my ain Jeanie--my best--my maist dutiful bairn--the Lord of
Israel be thy father, for I am hardly worthy of thee! Thou hast redeemed
our captivity--brought back the honour of our house--Bless thee, my
bairn, with mercies promised and purchased! But He _has_ blessed thee, in
the good of which He has made thee the instrument."

These words broke from him not without tears, though David was of no
melting mood. Archibald had, with delicate attention, withdrawn the
spectators from the interview, so that the wood and setting sun alone
were witnesses of the expansion of their feelings.

"And Effie?--and Effie, dear father?" was an eager interjectional
question which Jeanie repeatedly threw in among her expressions of joyful
thankfulness.

"Ye will hear--Ye will hear," said David hastily, and over and anon
renewed his grateful acknowledgments to Heaven for sending Jeanie safe
down from the land of prelatic deadness and schismatic heresy; and had
delivered her from the dangers of the way, and the lions that were in the
path.

"And Effie?" repeated her affectionate sister again and again. "And--and"
(fain would she have said Butler, but she modified the direct
inquiry)--"and Mr. and Mrs. Saddletree--and Dumbiedikes--and a' friends?"

"A' weel--a' weel, praise to His name!"

"And--Mr. Butler--he wasna weel when I gaed awa?"

"He is quite mended--quite weel," replied her father.

"Thank God--but O, dear father, Effie?--Effie?"

"You will never see her mair, my bairn," answered Deans in a solemn tone--
"You are the ae and only leaf left now on the auld tree--hale be your
portion!"

"She is dead!--She is slain!--It has come ower late!" exclaimed Jeanie,
wringing her hands.

"No, Jeanie," returned Deans, in the same grave melancholy tone. "She
lives in the flesh, and is at fre