ie's a haud o' yer
han'. I bide i' that wee hoosie down at the brig, atween the dam and
the Glamour, ye ken. Ye'll haud me aff o' the stanes?"

"Ay will I." answered Annie confidently.

"I could gang my lane, but I'm growin some auld noo, and I'm jist
raither feared for fa'in'."

"What garred ye think it was me--I never spak till ye afore?" asked
Annie, as they walked on together.

"Weel, it's jist half guissin', an' half a kin' o' jeedgment--pittin
things thegither, ye ken, my bairn. Ye see, I kent a' the bairns that
come to oor kirk weel eneuch already. I ken the word and amaist the fit
o' them. And I had heard tell 'at Maister Bruce was come to oor kirk.
Sae when a lassie spak till me 'at I never saw afore, I jist a kin' o'
kent 'at it bude to be yersel'."

All this was spoken in the same harsh voice, full of jars, as if ever
driving against corners, and ready to break into a hoarse whisper. But
the woman held Annie's hand kindly, and yielded like a child to her
guidance which was as careful as that of the angel that led Peter.

It was a new delight to Annie to have some one to whom she a child
could be a kind of mother, towards whom she could fulfil a woman's
highest calling--that of _ministering unto_; and it was with something
of a sacred pride that she led her safe home, through the snowy
streets, and down the steep path that led from the level of the bridge,
with its three high stone arches, to the little meadow where her
cottage stood. Before they reached it, the blind woman, whose name was
Tibbie (Isobel) Dyster, had put many questions to her, and without
asking one indiscreet, had yet, by her gift for fitting and fusing
things in the retort of her own brain, come to a tolerably correct
knowledge of her character, circumstances, and history.

As soon as they entered the cottage, Tibbie was entirely at her ease.
The first thing she did was to lift the kettle from the fire, and feel
the fire with her hands in order to find out in what condition it was.
She would not allow Annie to touch it: she could not trust the creature
that had nothing but eyes to guide her, with such a delicate affair.
Her very hands looked blind and trying to see, as, with fine up-curved
tips, they went wandering over the tops of the live peats. She
re-arranged them, put on some fresh pieces, blew a little at them all
astray and to no purpose, was satisfied, coughed, and sank upon a
chair, to put her bonnet off. Most women of her s