Miss Jean stood still for a moment, digesting the strange purport of those words; at last she stretched forward her hand to clutch the Bible. “The book’s mine--ye ken nocht but what ye have gotten out of my book--gie it back to me, ye deceivers. Am I gaun to gie my goods, think ye, to better Hairy Muir? Na, na,--ye have come to the wrang hand; give me back my book.” “There is some property in the case,” said Cuthbert, keeping his hand upon the Bible: “It cannot come to you, Miss Jean; for, though I believe you were very kind to them, you are not related to John Allenders; but Harry Muir is. Now, whether would it be better that this property should go to a stranger, or to your nephew who is in your debt?” Miss Jean had been eager to interrupt him, but his last words were a weighty utterance. She paused to consider. “Ye’re a clever chield,” she said at last, with a harsh laugh. “I wadna say but ye could put a case gey weel. My nephew that’s in my debt--and so he is, that’s true--what kind o’ property is’t? ye’ll be a writer, I reckon?” “Yes,” said Cuthbert, with a smile, “I am a writer. It is some land--a small estate, Miss Jean; but only one who is a descendant of John Allenders, can be the heir, and that is Harry Muir.” “Weel, I take ye to witness that what ye have said is true,” said the old woman eagerly; “that this lad is in my debt; and payment I’ll hae afore he bruiks the possession a week. Wasna it out of my book ye got a’ ye ken? and wha has sae muckle claim to consideration as me? I take ye to witness; and you, ye auld sneck-drawer--it was this ye was thinking about a’ the time?--Oh Sandy Muir! me, in my innocence, thinking ye were taking this pains to do me a guid turn: as ye’re awn me a day in harst, a’body kens; and you thinking o’ yoursel a’ the time. I wonder ye can have the face to look at me!” “I am seeking nothing for mysel, Miss Jean,” said Alexander, with a little pride, “the little I have will soon go to the bairns, as this will do. And I am thankful to say I owe ye nothing, if it be not in the way of good will.” “Guid will, said he! bonnie guid will to take a braw inheritance out frae under my very een,” said the old woman, bitterly. “I hand ye bound for the value of that book, Sandy Muir, mind. I’ll haud ye bound, and you too, my braw lad; sae if ye tak it away the noo ye sall bring it back again, or it will be a’ the waur for yoursels. Mind what I say; I’ll hae my goods spoiled and my gear lifted for nae man in this world.” Cuthbert promised, with all reverence, to restore the Bible, which he had considerable fears he would not be permitted to take away; and after they had soothed, so far as was possible, her bitter humour, Miss Jean, with as much courtesy as she was capable of, suffered them, rich in these precious documents, to depart.