"I ha’e my ain ways o’ thinkin’. I’ve aye had them and in my younger days I ha’e nae doot I was a sair trial to Andra. He had juist to get used to it, however, and noo he lets me alane and maybe I am a better woman for that. At ony rate, I am quite prepared to dee for the Cause if the Lord wills, but I’m no’ gaun to look for my death as Andra is sometimes ready to dae in ane o’ his uplifted moods, by daein’ onything silly. Ye’ve seen him sit by the fireside sometimes, wi’ his heid in his haun’s, groanin’. He is a guid man, as naebody kens better than I dae: but every noo and then he gets terrible upset aboot himself. Maist days he is quite sure that he is ane o’ the elect. But every noo and then, if he tak’s haggis to his supper, he’s in a black mood next day and is quite sure that he is ane o’ the castaways. Mony a time I ha’e heard him wrestlin’ wi’ the spirit, wi’ mony groans, and when I ha’e gane to him he has been moanin’--’I’m no’ sure. Am I ane o’ the elect or am I no’?’ I ken weel it’s no his conscience but only the haggis that’s tormentin’ him. So I juist gi’e him a dish o’ herb tea, and next day he is that uplifted that he thinks he’s fit to be ta’en like Elijah in a chariot straicht to heaven." Her face melted in a smile, and for the first time I saw that the winsomeness of Mary’s smile was a gift from her mother: then she continued: "You’re very ceevil. You aye ca’ me Mistress Paterson, and I suppose that’s only richt, but it’s a wee bit stiff. It makes me think o’ the meenister at a catechisin’. My name’s Janet, but naebody ever ca’s me that but Andra--and only when he’s no’ weel pleased wi’ me. I’m Jean to them I like, and to them that like me, an’ ye can ca’ me Jean if it pleases ye." *CHAPTER XX* *LOVE THE ALL-COMPELLING* As the days passed I began to be able to go further and further afield. I needed no support save the good ash stick which Andrew had given to me, but for love’s sweet sake I dissembled if Mary was at hand to help me. A day came when I gave serious thought to my future. I was unwilling to tear myself away from Daldowie, for the spell of love bound me, but I felt that I could not continue to trespass indefinitely upon the hospitality of my friends. And there was another matter of grave moment. Apparently, from what Jean had told me, Lag was in the habit of visiting Daldowie from time to time. So far, he had learned nothing of my presence there; but a day might come when I should be discovered, and that would expose my friends to deadly peril. I dared not think of that possibility, and yet it was real enough. I turned these things over in my mind, but always hesitated on the brink of decision, because I could not live without Mary.