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'Wasna gaun back wi'oot ye I seen ye drap even if ye had been a corp. . . . Been snokin' aroun' seekin' ye for Guid kens hoo lang. I'm fair hingin' wi' glaur. . . . I'm obleeged to ye, Wullie, but ye shouldna ha'e done it. Whauraboots are we? 'I wisht I was sure. Lost ma bearin's. I doobt we're nearer the Germans nor oor ain lot. That's the reason I'm weerin' this dish-cover.

It was ten o'clock. It had been arranged at their last meeting that without the usual signal he should go to her to-night before twelve. Already his heart beat quickly; his face was warm and tingling with pleasant excitation, he felt a good man. "By God!" he cried. "If it was not for the old glaur! What for does heaven or hell send the worst of its temptations to the young and ignorant?

Accordingly, in the gloaming, I went over to where he stayed: it was with Miss Jenny Killfuddy, an elderly maiden lady, whose father was the minister of Braehill, and the same that is spoken of in the chronicle of Dalmailing, as having had his eye almost put out by a clash of glaur, at the stormy placing of Mr Balwhidder. "Mr Pittle," said I, as soon as I was in and the door closed.

Loe him, lassie, and ye'll never glaur the bonny goon ye broucht white frae his hert!" The soutar's face was solemn and white, and tears were running down the furrows of his cheeks. Maggie too was weeping. At length she said Supposin the mither o' my bairnie a wuman like that, can ye think it fair that her disgrace should stick til him?"

Everything around me seemed to smell of sin and pollution, and often did I commune with my own heart, that I would rather be a sober, poor, honest man in the country, able to clear my day and way by the help of Providence, than the provost himself, my lord though he be, or even the mayor of London, with his velvet gown trailing for yards in the glaur behind him, or riding about the streets in a coach made of clear crystal and wheels of beaten gold.

You have seen the sort of man I mean: to-day generous to his last plack, to-morrow the widow's oppressor; Sunday a soul humble at the throne of grace, and writhing with remorse for some child's sin, Monday riding vain-gloriously in the glaur on the road to hell, bragging of filthy amours, and inwardly gloating upon a crime anticipated.

My lord's voice rang out as it did seldom in the privacy of his own house. "I'll have nonn of that, sir!" he cried. "Do you hear me? nonn of that! No son of mine shall be speldering in the glaur with any dirty raibble." The anxious mother was grateful for so much support; she had even feared the contrary.

"Well," he pursued gawkily, though he perceived her drift clearly, "here I am, and I do love you. Oh, what a poor word it is, that love, for the fire I feel inside me. There is no word for that, there is nothing but a song for it that some day I must be making. Love, quo' she; oh, I could say that truly of the heather kissing your hand, ay, of the glaur your feet might walk on upon a wet day!"