"It seems to be nane the waur, except that the corner o’ ane o’ its braids is broken. Man, it’s a lucky thing for you that I’m a scholar, and carry Horace wi’ me. When I got tired o’ waitin’ for ye at the trysting-place, I thocht that something must ha’e gane wrang, so I gaed doon to the Tolbooth to ha’e a look for mysel’. I got a terrible shock when I struck my foot on the file you had dropped. I thocht a’ was up then; but it didna tak’ me lang to mak’ up my mind. At first I thocht o’ flingin’ the file through the window, then I thocht that if I missed it would mak’ an unco’ clatter and micht waken somebody, so I fell back upon Horace and he served. I put the book through the window at the second shot, which is no’ bad for an auld man, as ye will dootless admit; and here ye are in safety. Mony a time Horace has fetched me oot o’ the dungeons o’ despondency, but I never kent him help a body oot o’ the Dumfries Tolbooth afore." The garrulous fellow would doubtless have continued longer in a like strain, but I would have none of it. My heart was crying for my loved one. "Tell me," I exclaimed, "where is Mary?" "Come on," he said with a laugh, "and see for yoursel’." He led the way out into the open and I followed close behind him. As we emerged a man approached us out of the darkness. I started and laid a hand upon Hector’s arm. "There’s naething to fear," he said. "It’s only the minister frae the cave at the Linn. He’s come to mairry you." "To marry me," I exclaimed. "Who has arranged it?" "I ha’e nae doot," answered Hector, "Mary and you arranged it lang syne on the braes at Daldowie. A’ I ha’e dune is to mak’ your arrangements possible." My heart was full. The minister greeted me warmly, and together the three of us made for the summit of the little knoll beside the Abbey. While Mr. Corsane was congratulating me upon my escape and upon the rescue of Mary, the packman had turned his back upon us and was gazing earnestly towards the mouth of the Cluden. As we talked he interrupted us suddenly by saying: "They’re coming noo, I can see them." Along the edge of the bank below us, three figures were moving. Soon they had begun to ascend the knoll. "Mary’s there," said Hector, "and the twa wi’ her are the good-man o’ Nunholm and his better three-quarters." I sprang towards the advancing figures and calling "Mary," clasped her in my arms. There are moments too sacred for speech. I could only kiss her. Then linking my arm through hers I helped her to the top of the mound. There in the aisle of the trees with the light of the kindly stars filtering through and falling on the ground with a holier radiance than ever streamed through the east window of a cathedral, the minister made us one. He could not unite our hearts. That had been done long ago. He could only join our hands.