waur than an ostler at the Lossie Airms, an' that efter a' 'at I
ha'e borne an' dune to mak a gentleman o' ye, bairdin' yer father
here like a verra lion in 's den, an' garrin' him confess the thing
again' ilka hair upon the stiff neck o' 'im? Losh, laddie! it was
a pictur' to see him stan'in wi' 's back to the door like a camstairy
(obstinate) bullock!"

"Haud yer tongue, mem, gien ye please. I canna bide to hear my
father spoken o' like that. For ye see I lo'ed him afore I kent he
was ony drap 's blude to me."

"Weel, that's verra weel; but father an' mither's man and wife,
an' ye camna o' a father alane."

"That's true, mem, an' it canna be I sud ever forget yon face ye
shawed me i' the coffin, the bonniest, sairest sicht I ever saw,"
returned Malcolm, with a quaver in his voice.

"But what for cairry yer thouchts to the deid face o' her? Ye kent
the leevin' ane weel," objected Miss Horn.

"That's true, mem; but the deid face maist blottit the leevin' oot
o' my brain."

"I'm sorry for that.--Eh, laddie, but she was bonny to see!"

"I aye thoucht her the bonniest leddy I ever set e'e upo'. An' dinna
think, mem, I'm gaein to forget the deid, 'cause I'm mair concemt
aboot the leevin'. I tell ye I jist dinna ken what to du. What
wi' my father's deein' words committin' her to my chairge, an' the