and the more innocent. But then God has plenty of time.

One chilly gloaming there was no calling at the Rhonefoot. Nevertheless
Grace rowed over and waited, imagining that all evil had befallen her
lover. Within, her aunt Barbara fretted and murmured at her absence,
driving her silent sister into involved refuges of lies to shield young
Grace Allen, whom her soul loved.

The next day went by as the night had passed, with an awful constriction
about her heart, a numbness over all her body; yet Grace did her work as
one who dares not stop.

Two serving-men crossed in the ferry-boat, unconcernedly talking over
the country news as men do when they meet.

"Did ye hear aboot young Jeffray?" asked the herd from the Mains.

"Whatna Jeffray?" asked, without much show of interest, the ploughman
from Drumglass.

"Wi' man, the young lad that the daft folk in Enbra sent here for
Sheriff."

"I didna ken he was hereawa'," said the Mains, with a purely perfunctory
surprise.

"Ou ay, he has been a feck ower by at the Barr. They say he's gaun to
get marriet to the youngest dochter. She's hae a gye fat stockin'-fit,
I'se warrant."