There came a day when, after examining my ankle with care, the old man said: "I think we micht try to get ye on your legs," and he raised me in his arms and set me on my feet. The garret spun round me, and the floor rose like the billows of the sea and would have swept me down had it not been for his strong arm. "Steady lad, steady," he said. "Ye’ll fin’ your feet in a wee. Just shut your een for a minute and then open them again. I’ll haud ye fast; dinna’ be feart!" I did as he bade me and found that the floor had become steady again; then, supported by his arm, I essayed to walk. To my joy I discovered that, though the effort cost me pain, I was able to walk from one end of the room to the other. The old man was delighted. "Jean," he cried, "come awa’ up to the laft. Bryden can walk," and I saw the trap-door rise to admit her. She stood with her hands on her hips: "It bates a’," she said. "The nicht ye cam’ I never thocht to see you on your legs again, but ha’e a care, Andra, the lad’s weak yet; help him back intil his bed and I’ll fetch him a bowl o’ sheep’s-heid broth for his supper." And when I was comfortably settled once more, she was as good as her word. Next day she brought me a strong ash stick, and with its help and the aid of her arm I was able to walk round the loft in some comfort. Day by day my strength grew and I began to look forward to the hour when I should be able to join my friends in the kitchen below, when I hoped to see Mary face to face. It may have been nothing more than a coincidence--though, as I listened eagerly, I flattered myself it might be for joy that I was so far recovered--that on the night I first began to walk again, I heard Mary singing a song. As the hour drew nearer when I should meet her, I began to be covered with confusion. How would she receive me? At last the great day came. In the late afternoon Andrew brought me a suit of clothes. "The wife sent ye them," he said. "She thocht they were nearer your size than the meenister’s," and he laid them on the stool beside my bed and turned his back upon me: then brushing a sleeve across his eyes, he said: "I’m thinkin’ it cost Jean a lot to tak’ them oot o’ the drawer; ye see they were Dauvit’s." Had I needed any proof of the love they bore me, I had it now. I was to enter the circle round their hearth clad in the garments of their dead son. I had learned enough of the quiet reserve of these hill-folks to know that any words of mine would have been unseemly, so I held my peace, and with the help of the good man put the garments on. Then leaning on my stick and aided by his strong arm I walked to the trap-door. Slowly I made my way down the ladder, guided at every step by Andrew who had preceded me, and by and by my feet touched the flagged floor of the kitchen. The old woman hurried to my side, and between them they guided me to a large rush-bottomed chair set in the ingle-nook beside the fire.