“Jeanie,” he said, and his voice grew low and tremulous as he spoke, “can ye hear bad news? I canna bide here longer,” he added, after a pause, and with an obvious effort. The maiden started; but having introduced the subject, her lover proceeded firmly—“I canna bide here, year after year, as I hae done for the last twelvemonth, and be put off, month by month, wi’ promises that are never to be fulfilled. I will go away and seek my fortune in other lands. They say money is to be had amaist for the asking in the Indies, and ye ken we may never marry while I remain as now, with na roof to lay my ain head under, to say naething of yours, Jeanie, which I hold dearer than ten thousand thousand sic as mine. So I hae engaged to go out to the Indies, and the ship sails to-morrow. Do not greet, my flower o’ the brae,” said he, as the maiden burst into tears, “for ye ken it is only sufferin’ a lighter evil to put off a greater one. If I stay here we maun make up our minds never to be one, for not a farm is to be had for a puir man like me, from Ettrick to Inverness. In two years, at maist, I will return,” and his voice brightened with hope, as he proceeded, “and then, Jeanie dear, naething shall keep us asunder, and you shall be the richest, and I hope the happiest bride in all the border.” The manly pathos of his words, his visible attempt to stifle his feelings, and the grief she felt at the contemplated absence of her lover, all conjoined to heighten the emotion of the maiden, and flinging herself on her lover’s bosom, she wept long and uncontrollably. Her companion gazed on in silence, with an almost bursting heart; but he knew that he could not recede from his promise, and that the hour of anguish must be endured sooner or later. Then why not now? At length the sobs of Jeanie grew less violent and frequent—the first burst of her emotion was passing away. Gently then did her lover soothe her feelings, pointing out to her the advantages to result from his determination, and cheering her with the assurance, that in two years, at farthest, he would return. “I hae no fears, Jeanie, that ye will not prove true to me, and for the rest we are in God’s gude hands. Our lives are as safe in his protection awa on the seas as by our ain ingle-side. And now farewell, for the present, dearie—I maun do many things before we sail to-morrow. God bless you!” and with these words, dashing a tear from his eye, he tore himself from the maiden, and walked rapidly across the lea, as if to dissipate his emotion by the swiftness of his pace. When he reached the brow of the hill, however, he turned to take a last look at the spot where he had parted with Jeanie. She was still standing where he left her, looking after his receding form. He waved his hand, gazed a moment on her, and then whistled to his dog, and dashed over the brow of the hill.