room! And they're talking
such nonsense there! There's nobody speaks sense to me but you, Mr
Cupples.'

"''Deed, mem,' says I, 'I dinna ken whaur it's to come frae the nicht.
For I hae nae sense left but ane, and that's nearhan' 'wi' excess o'
brightness blind.' Auld Spenser says something like that, doesna he,
mem?' I added, seein' that she luikit some grave. But what she micht
hae said or dune, I dinna ken; for I sweir to ye, bantam, I know
nothing that happent efter, till I cam' to mysel' at the soun' o' a
lauch frae outside the door. I kenned it weel eneuch, though it was a
licht flutterin' lauch. Maybe I heard it the better frae the conductin'
pooer o' timmer, for my broo was doon o' the buirds o' the flure. I
sprang to my feet, but the place reeled roon', and I fell. It was the
lauch that killed me. What for sud she lauch?--And sic a ane as her
that was no licht-heidit lassie, but cud read and unnerstan', wi the
best? I suppose I had gane upo' my knees till her, and syne like the
lave o' the celestials she tuik to her feathers and flew. But I ken nae
mair than this: that for endless ages I gaed followin' her through the
heavenly halls, aye kennin as sure's gospel that she was ahint the
neist door, and aye openin' that door upon an empty glory, to be
equally certain that she was ahint the neist. And sae on I gaed till,
ahint ane o' the thoosan' doors, I saw the reek-enamelled couples o' my
auld mither's bit hoosie upo' the mairgin o' the bog, and she was
hingin' ower me, sayin' her prayers as gin she wad gang efter them like
a balloon wi' verra fervour. And whan she saw my een open, she drappit
upo' her knees and gaed on prayin'. And I wonner that thae prayers
warna hearkent till. I never cud unnerstan' that."

"Hoo ken ye that they warna hearkent till?" asked Alec.

"Luik at me! Do ye ca' that hearkenin' till a prayer? Luik what she got
me back for. Ca' ye that an answer to prayers like my auld mither's?
Faith! I'll be forced to repent some day for her sake, though there
sudna be anither woman atween Venus and Mars but wad rive wi' lauchin
at a word frae Cosmo Cupples. But, man! I wad hae repentit lang syne
gin I cud hae gotten ae glimp o' a possible justice in pittin a hert as
grit's mine into sic a misgreein', scrimpit, contemptible body as this.
The verra sowl o' me has to draw up the legs o' 't to haud them inside
this coffin o' a corpus, and haud them ohn shot oot into the
everlastin' cauld. Man, the first