"Wicked!" rejoined he, in rising agony. "'Let the righteous smite me, it
shall be a kindness; and let them reprove me, it shall,' as Solomon
says, 'be an excellent oil.'"

"I am glad," continued the woman, "to find you with a turned heart; but
whaur is the Jezebel ye took in her place?"

"Awa this day," replied he. "I have found her out, and never mair is she
wife o' mine."

"Sae far weel and better," said she.

"Ay, but speak to me o' Janet," cried he, earnestly. "Come, tell me how
she escaped, whaur she is, and how she is; for now I think there is
light breaking through the fearfu' cloud."

"Light indeed," continued Mrs. Paterson; "and now, listen to a strange
tale, mair wonderfu' than man's brain ever conceived. When ye thought ye
had drowned her, and cared naething doubtless--for ye see I maun speak
plain--whether her spirit went to the ae place or the ither, ay, and ran
awa to add to murder a lee, she struggled out o' the deep, yea--

'He took her from the fearfu' pit,
And from the miry clay.'

And when she got to the bank she ran as for the little life was in her,
until she came to the foot of Halkerstone's Wynd, where she crossed to
the other side of the loch. When she thought hersel' safe, she took the
road to Glasgow, where I was then living wi' my husband, wha is since
dead. The night was dark, but self-preservation maks nae gobs at