ight once have
reached; for such was her sense of condemnation, that she dared not
take pleasure in anything. Nothing else was worth minding till
something was done about that. The thought of having God against her
took the heart out of everything.--As soon as Alec left her, she walked
with hanging head, pale face, and mournful eyes, straight to Mr Cowie's
door.

She was admitted at once, and shown into the library, where the
clergyman sat in the red dusky glow of the firelight, sipping a glass
of wine, and looking very much like an ox-animal chewing the cud; for
the meditation in which the good man indulged over his wine was seldom
worthy of being characterized otherwise than as mental rumination.

"Well, Annie, my dear, come away," said he, "I am glad to see you. How
does the boat get on?"

Deeply touched by a kindness which fell like dew upon the parching
misery of the day, Annie burst into tears. Mr Cowie was greatly
distressed. He drew her between his knees, laid his cheek against hers,
as was his way with children, and said with soothing tenderness:

"Walawa! what's the matter with my dawtie?"

After some vain attempts at speech, Annie succeeded in giving the
following account of the matter, much interrupted with sobs and fresh
outbursts of weeping.

"Ye see, sir, I gaed last nicht to the missionar kirk to hear Mr Broon.
And he preached a gran' sermon, sir. But I haena been able to bide
mysel' sin' syne. For I doobt I'm ane o' the wicked 'at God hates, and
I'll never win' to haven at a', for I canna help forgettin' him whiles.
An' the wicked'll be turned into hell, and a' the nations that forget
God. That was his text, sir. And I canna bide it."

In the bosom of the good man rose a gentle indignation against the
schismatics who had thus terrified and bewildered that sacred being, a
maid-child. But what could he say? He thought for a moment, and betook
himself, in his perplexity, to his common sense.

"You haven't forgotten your father, have you, Annie?" said he.

"I think aboot him maist ilka day," answered Annie.

"But there comes a day now and then when you don't think much about
him, does there not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think he would be angry with his child because she was so much
taken up with her books or her play---"

"I never play at onything, sir."

"Well--with learning songs to say to Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha--do
you think he would be angry that you didn't think about him that da