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His gray-flecked head was bowed upon his arms; his hands clutched the picture; and he prayed aloud in gasping, halting tones. "Gie me grace, O God! 'Father and mither baith, ye said, Flora and I ha'na done it. But 'tis no too late say it's no, lass. Tell me there's time yet, and say ye forgie me. I've tried to bear wi' him mony and mony a time.
An' so ye ha'na' found him?" "Oh, sister, my hairt's heavy an' sair. I canna' thole to tell ye." "But ye maun do't, an' the sooner ye tell't the sooner ye'll ha'e it over." "He was na' there. Oh, Ellen, Ellen! He'd gone to America! I'm afraid the Elder is right an' Hester has gone home to get her death blow. Why were we so precipitate in lettin' her go?"
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