What pairtit them, auld man? I said; Did the tide come up ower strang? 'Twas a braw deith for them that gaed, Their troubles warna lang. Or was ane ta'en, and the ither left-- Ane to sing, ane to greet? It's sair, richt sair, to be bereft, But the tide is at yer feet. "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar." Maybe, quo' I, 'twas Time's gray sea, Whase droonin' 's waur to bide; But Death's a diver, seekin' ye Aneath its chokin' tide. And ye'll luik in ane anither's ee Triumphin' ower gray Time. But never a word he answered me, But ower wi' his dreary chime-- "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar." Maybe, auld man, said I, 'twas Change That crap atween the twa? Hech! that's a droonin' awfu' strange, Ane waur than ane and a'. He spak nae mair. I luik't and saw That the auld lips cudna gang. The tide unseen took him awa-- Left me to end his sang: "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And tuik them whaur pairtin' shall be no more." Before he had finished reading, the refrain had become so familiar to Alec, that he unconsciously murmured the last, changed as it was from the preceding form, aloud. Mr Cupples looked up from Gurnall uneasily, fidgeted in his chair, and said testily: "A' nonsense! Moonshine and rainbows! Haud yer tongue! The last line's a' wrang." He then returned with a determined air to the consideration of his _Christian Armour_, while Alec, in whom the minor tone of the poem had greatly deepened the interest he felt in the writer, gazed at him in a bewilderment like that one feels when his eyes refuse to take their proper relation to the perspective before them. He could not get those verses and Mr Cupples into harmony. Not daring to make any observation, however, he sat with the last leaf still in his hand, and a reverential stare upon his face, which at length produced a remarkable effect upon the object of it. Suddenly lifting his eyes-- "What are ye glowerin' at me for?" he exclaimed, flinging his book from him, which, missing the table, fell on the floor on the further side of it. "I'm neither ghaist nor warlock. Damn ye! gang oot, gin ye be gaun to stick me throu and throu wi' yer een, that gait." "I beg your pardon, Mr Cupples. I didn't mean to be rude," said Alec humbly. "Weel, cut yer stick, I hae eneuch o' ye for ae nicht. I canna stan' glowerin' een, especially i' the heids o' idiots o' innocents like you."