my feeling of bereavement contained no element of ultimate loss and separation. But here there was fear for the present life, and dread for the future; for the poor girl was in such a state of mental suffering, that these mourners doubted much if she could pass through the trial before her with life; and yet life to show her repentance was what her dear friends desired most of

all. The two women sat sobbing for a while, and then, as they became more composed, I began to ask them about her.

"Did not Jenny go to Fenton, Whitsunday was a year? Was it not to that farm she went to service? I have always heard that, that was a very bad place for a young woman to be in."

"'Deed, Sir, it is a bad place. She did gang there; but we thought she wouldna

be led away by John Phillips: we were as sure of her as we could well be; and then the wage was good, and she was to be an indoor maiden. She was to be married at Whitsunday to a decent lad," sobbed the mother. "Neither Marget nor me could think ony ill of her going there to service, since she had her marriage before her, and was gathering for it; and the big wage was a great temptation on that account, and we baith thought sae muckle of her, and she was na to gang out to the field at all. Oh, Mr. Paxton, speak till her, and tell the puir bairn to be quiet, and no take on sae, as she's dune since she came hame; and get her to tell you all about her misfortune. I'm sure she'll tell you, though she wouldna tell me or Marget."

Whisht, mither, whisht," said Margaret,

impressively, "Mr. Paxton must ken everything that we ken, before he can do any gude wi' her. So, Sir, she did go to service at that weary place, as my mither says, and she's been near twae years wi' John Phillips at Fenton, and never a word of complaint, or a word about hersel a' the time. She was to be married on a young lad, at the Eastfield, as sune as this year was dune. But this misfortune has come ower her, and we dinna ken ony mair, and she'll no tell us, whether it's Tam or her maister, or wha beguiled her. If she would but tell us, we could, maybe, get things made some better. I ken ye dinna like such like marriages, but better an irregular marriage, than this disgrace."

"There will be no need for that, there will be no occasion for an irregular marriage

at all. If it only could be brought to pass soon, I would myself go down to Fairton, and marry her properly. But how can ye bring it to pass? I doubt from what you say, she will be as unwilling to tell me, as she was to tell you, and there must be something bye ordinary in it. Poor Jenny, I'm wae for her; I thought her one of the best, and most promising of my young people. I'll be very gentle with her now, you may be sure. Can I speak to her

now ?"

"Wait till she waken, Mr. Paxton," said Margaret. "She'll no sleep lang. Wait a wee bit, and I'll tell her you're here, and then ye can gang and speak to her, and we'll stand at the door, and no let ony body come in, for it's no little add to the sorrow, that a' the folk in the town ken already,

that Jenny has come hame as she should nae hae dune."

So I waited, watching the two women stricken down with their great sorrow and humiliation, and finding my own sadness disappear little by little, under the pressure of this grief of a stranger's, and thus we sat for nearly an hour, almost in silence, interrupted only by the broken sobs, and suppressed exclamations of the two lone women, and my own low-toned attempts to comfort them. The old woman sat right in front of the fire, her daughter on one side, and me on the other; there was no light in the room, save what the fire afforded, and it shone brightly on us, bringing out very prominently the various rugged lines of the old woman's face, and the particular folds of her dress. I tried to comfort, but their