“‘Forgi’e me, gude woman, for having unwittingly offended ye,’ said Jeanie, rising.  ’But, merciful Father! how sud I ken that Willie Robertson, my ain Willie, had a wife?  Oh, Willie!’ she cried, covering her face in her hands to hide all the agony that was in her heart.  ‘I ha’ come a lang way, an’ a weary to see ye, an’ ye might ha’ spared me the grief—­the burning shame o’ this.  Farewell, Willie Robertson, I will never mair trouble ye nor her wi’ my presence, but this cruel deed of yours has broken my heart!’

“She went away weeping, and he had not the courage to detain her, or say one word to comfort her, or account for his strange conduct; yet, if I know him right, that must ha’ been the most sorrowfu’ moment in his life.

“Jeanie was a distant connexion of my uncle’s, and she found us out that night, on her return to the village, and told us all her grief.  My aunt, who was a kind good woman, was indignant at the treatment she had recieved; and loved and cherished her as if she had been her own child.

“For two whole weeks she kept her bed, and was so ill that the doctor despaired of her life; and when she did come again among us, the colour had faded from her cheeks, and the light from her sweet blue eyes, and she spoke in a low subdued voice, but she never spoke of him as the cause of her grief.

“One day she called me aside and said—­

“‘Jamie, you know how I lo’ed an’ trusted him, an’ obeyed his ain wishes in comin’ out to this strange country to be his wife.  But ‘tis all over now,’ and she pressed her sma’ hands tightly over her breast to keep doon the swelling o’ her heart.  ’Jamie, I know now that it is a’ for the best; I lo’ed him too weel—­mair than ony creature sud lo’e a perishing thing o’ earth.  But I thought that he wud be sae glad an’ sae proud to see his ain Jeanie sae sune.  But, oh!—­ah, weel!—­I maun na think o’ that; what I wud jist say is this,’ an’ she took a sma’ packet fra’ her breast, while the tears streamed down her pale cheeks.  ’He sent me forty dollars to bring me ower the sea to him—­God bless him for that, I ken he worked hard to earn it, for he lo’ed me then—­I was na’ idle during his absence.  I had saved enough to bury my dear auld grandfather, and to pay my ain expenses out, and I thought, like the gude servant in the parable, I wud return Willie his ain with interest; an’ I hoped to see him smile at my diligence, an’ ca’ me his bonnie gude lassie.  Jamie, I canna’ keep this siller, it lies like a weight o’ lead on my heart.  Tak’ it back to him, an’ tell him fra’ me, that I forgi’e him a’ his cruel deceit, an’ pray to God to grant him prosperity, and restore to him that peace o’ mind o’ which he has robbed me for ever.’

“I did as she bade me.  Willie looked stupified when I delivered her message.  The only remark he made, when I gave him back the money, was, ‘I maun be gratefu’, man, that she did na’ curse me.’  The wife came in, and he hid away the packet and slunk off.  The man looked degraded in his own eyes, and so wretched, that I pitied him from my very heart.