o' my father's, he sud objeck to my father's son!'

'Eh, but laddies _ir_ gowks!' cried Kirsty. 'My father was your
father's freen' for _his_ sake, no for his ain! He thinks o' what wud
be guid for you, no for himsel!'

'Weel, but,' persisted Gordon, 'it wud be mair for my guid nor onything
ither he cud wuss for, to hae you for my wife!'

Kirsty's nostrils began to quiver, and her lip rose in a curve of
scorn.

'A bonnie wife ye wud hae, Francie Gordon, wha, kennin her father duin
ilk mortal thing for the love o' his auld maister and comrade, tuik the
fine chance to mak her ain o' 't, and haud her grip o' the callan til
hersel!--Think ye aither o' the auld men ever mintit at sic a thing as
fatherin baith? That my father had a lass-bairn o' 's ain shawed mair
nor onything the trust your father pat in 'im! Francie, the verra grave
wud cast me oot for shame 'at I sud ance hae thoucht o' sic a thing!
Man, it wud maist drive yer leddy-mither dementit!'

'It's my business' Kirsty, wha I merry!'

'And I houp yer grace 'll alloo it's pairt _my_ business wha ye sail
_not_ merry--and that's me, Francie!'

Gordon sprang to his feet with such a look of wrath and despair as for
a moment frightened Kirsty who was not easily frightened. She thought
of the terrible bog-holes on the way her lover had come, sprang also to
her feet, and caught him by the arm where, his foot already in the