But, when they came alongside the pier, Jean, who was the first to get her head from under the sail, whipped it back again and said to Christie: “Here he is, Christie; dinna speak till him.” And sure enough there was, in the twilight, with a pale face and an uneasy look--Mr. Charles Gatty! He peered timidly into the boat, and, when he saw Christie, an “Ah!” that seemed to mean twenty different things at once, burst from his bosom. He held out his arm to assist her. She cast on him one glance of mute reproach, and, placing her foot on the boat's gunwale, sprang like an antelope upon the pier, without accepting his assistance. Before going further, we must go back for this boy, and conduct him from where we left him up to the present point. The moment he found himself alone with Jean Carnie, in his own house, he began to tell her what trouble he was in; how his mother had convinced him of his imprudence in falling in love with Christie Johnstone; and how she insisted on a connection being broken off which had given him his first glimpse of heaven upon earth, and was contrary to common sense. Jean heard him out, and then, with the air of a lunatic-asylum keeper to a rhodomontading patient, told him “he was one fool, and his mother was another.” First she took him up on the score of prudence. “You,” said she, “are a beggarly painter, without a rap; Christie has houses, boats, nets, and money; you are in debt; she lays by money every week. It is not prudent on her part to take up with you--the better your bargain, my lad.” Under the head of common sense, which she maintained was all on the same side of the question, she calmly inquired: “How could an old woman of sixty be competent to judge how far human happiness depends on love, when she has no experience of that passion, and the reminiscences of her youth have become dim and dark? You might as well set a judge in court, that has forgotten the law--common sense,” said she, “the old wife is sixty, and you are twenty--what can she do for you the forty years you may reckon to outlive her? Who is to keep you through those weary years but the wife of your own choice, not your mother's? You English does na read the Bible, or ye'd ken that a lad is to 'leave his father and mother, and cleave until his wife,'” added she; then with great contempt she repeated, “common sense, indeed! ye're fou wi' your common sense; ye hae the name o' 't pat eneuch--but there's na muckle o' that mairchandise in your harns.” Gatty was astonished. What! was there really common sense on the side of bliss? and when Jean told him to join her party at Inch Coombe, or never look her in the face again, scales seemed to fall from his eyes; and, with a heart that turned in a moment from lead to a feather, he vowed he would be at Inch Coombe. He then begged Jean on no account to tell Christie the struggle he had been subjected to, since his scruples were now entirely conquered.