. Just look at Susan Morton, an' that Mag Lindsay. What are
they but shameless lumps who dinna ken what modesty is?" and there was a
spark of the old scorn in her voice as she finished.

"Oh, but I wadna gang as faur as you, mither," he said, "wi' your
condemnations. I ken that baith Susan Morton an' Mag Lindsay are
guid-hearted women. They may be coarse in their talk, an' a' that sort
o' thing; but they are as kind-hearted as onybody else, an' kinder than
some."

"Oh; I hae nae doot," she answered relentingly. "I didna mean that at
a'; but the pit-head doesna make them ony better, an' it's no' wark for
them at a'."

"I mind," said Robert reminiscently, "when Mysie an' me started on the
pit-head, Mag Lindsay was awfu' guid to Mysie; an' I've kent her often
sharin' her piece wi' wee Dicky Tamson, whiles when he had nane, if his
mother happened to be on the fuddle for a day or twa. There's no a
kinderhearted woman in Lowwood, mither, than Mag Lindsay. She'd swear at
Dicky a' the time she was stappin' her piece into him. It was jist her
wye, an' I think she couldna help it."

"Oh, ay, Mag's bark is waur then her bite. I ken that," was the reply.
"An' wi' a' her fauts a body canna help likin' her."

"Speakin' of Mysie," said Robert with caution, "I hinna seen her owre
for a while surely. Wull there be onything wrang?" and then, to hide the
agitation he felt, "she used to come owre hame aboot twice a week, an' I
hinna seen her for a while."

"Oh, there canna be onything wrang," replied Nellie, "or we wad hae
heard tell o' it. But t' is time we were awa' to oor beds, or we'll no'
be able to rise in time the morn," and rising as she spoke, she began to
make preparations for retiring, and he withdrew to his room also.

Still, day after day, he hung about the moorland path, but no Mysie, so
far as he knew, ever came past. She had visited her parents only once
since the games and her mother was struck by her subdued and thoughtful
demeanor. But nothing was said at the time.

Robert grew impatient, and began to roam nearer to Rundell House, in the
hope of seeing her. Always his thoughts were full of Mysie and the
raging passion in his blood for her gave him no rest. He loved to trace
her name linked with his own, and then to obliterate it again, in case
anyone would see it. All day his thoughts were of her; and her sweet,
shy smile that day of the games was nursed in memory till it grew to be
a solace to his heart and its