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I wuss wi' a' my hert I hadna latten ye til 'im! Ye hae ruined a'! 'Ye never loot me gang, Phemy! It was my business to gang. 'I see what's intil't! cried Phemy, bursting into tears. 'Ye tellt him hoo little ye thoucht o' me, and that gart him change his min'! 'Wud he be worth greitin about gien that war the case, Phemy? But ye ken it wasna that!

But gin I war up, see gin I wadna gie ye a new goon, an' that wad be something to make ye like yersel' again. I'm affrontet wi' mysel' 'at I had been sic a brute o' a man to ye. But ye maun forgie me noo, for I do believe i' my hert 'at the Lord's forgien me. Gie me anither kiss, lass. God be praised, and mony thanks to you!

Before the gathering broke up, the farmer put the big Bible in the hands of the soutar, with the request that he would lead their prayers; and this was very nearly what he said: "O God, to whom we belang, hert and soul, body and blude and banes, hoo great art thou, and hoo close to us, to hand the richt ower us o' sic a gran' and fair, sic a just and true ownership!

Ma hert turned tae bitterness, but that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo lay yon sad simmer time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you an' me are auld freends, and will be till we dee." MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man looked at the other.

Well, he had played his man's part as well as he could; ridden away from her, disappointed her, openly avoided her, only in the end to love her with the deep, wise, understanding, all-embracing love of a man past his first youth, and with a wide knowledge of human nature. And this engagement of hers to van Hert!

And wha can tell but she's needin him waur nor he's needin her though there maun aye be something he canna get 'cause ye're no his ain mither, Maggie, and I'm no even his ain gutcher!" The adoptive mother burst into a howl. "Father, father, ye'll brak the hert o' me!" she almost yelled, and laid the child on the top of her father's hands in the very act of drawing his waxed ends.

'I trust it's the glory o' God, laddie. 'I houp that's no a'thegither wantin', grannie. For I love God wi' a' my hert. But I doobt it's aftener the savin' o' my earthly father nor the glory o' my heavenly ane that I'm thinkin' o'. Mrs. Falconer heaved a deep sigh. 'God grant ye success, Robert, she said. 'But that canna be richt. 'What canna be richt?

Yon's ane 'at canna gather, nor stock, nor bin', but she's bonny a' throu', an' her v'ice is a sang, an' she'll gang throu' fire an' waiter ohn blinkit for her love's sake. Yon's the lass for oor laird! The like o' you an' me sud trible heid nor hert aboot the likes o' HIM." "Speyk for yersel', lass," said Elsie.

When Robert appeared, wondering what his grandmother could want with him, she said: 'Close the door, Robert. I canna lat ye gang to the schule the day. We maun lea' him oot noo. 'Lea' wha oot, grannie? 'Him, him Anerew. Yer father, laddie. I think my hert 'll brak. 'Lea' him oot o' what, grannie? I dinna unnerstan' ye. 'Lea' him oot o' oor prayers, laddie, and I canna bide it.

Burnham, who had raised Ralph's head in her arms and was pressing her wet handkerchief against it; "ye're verra gude, but ma mind is to tak' 'im hame an' ten' till 'im mysel'. He was ower-tired, d'ye see, wi' the trooble an' the toil, an' noo I fear me an they've broke the hert o' 'im." Then Bachelor Billy, lifting the boy up in his arms, set his face toward the door.