Desmond broke into sobs again, and the old man, seeing him thus softened, went on: ‘There’s jest one thing ye’ll promise me, lad. Before ye gang awa’, see me once more, and maybe I can help ye yet.’ ‘I’ll promise you that,’ said Desmond, ‘if you’ll give me a promise in return. You’ll tell me all about my mother?’ ‘Ay, lad, I’ll tell ye all I ken. There’s no word o’ shame for _her_ in all the story, whatever shame there may be for others.’ ‘All I think of now,’ continued Desmond, ‘is the thought of the grief I brought her.’ ‘Ne’er believe it, lad,’ cried the old man; ‘ne’er believe it. Ye brought her comfort and hope.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Many’s the time I’ve grat o’er your cradle, and noo, old fool that I am, I’m greeting again. Bide a bit, lad; God may help us yet! There, there!’ he continued, as the impulsive young fellow threw his arms about him, ‘ye’ll not be for hugging old Peebles. Tak’ the little lass in your arms, and gie _her_ one more kiss for luck!’ ‘Desmond!’ cried Dulcie, stretching her arms to him. ‘My conscience!’ said Peebles, as the lovers embraced, ‘if I’d your youth, and siccan a mouth to kiss, I wadna care if the Deil himsel’ was my progenitor!’ ‘Good-bye, my darling!’ sobbed Desmond. ‘Good-bye, and God Almighty bless ye! I must go. Good-bye, good-bye!’ He tore himself from her arms, and ran out of the house. Dulcie sank back upon a bench, and her tears ran unrestrainedly. ‘Tak’ heart, Lady Dulcie, tak’ heart,’ said the good old man, patting her shoulder with one hand, as he wiped his own eyes with the other. ‘It’s a sair trouble, but we’ll maybe reconcile them yet.’ ‘Oh, Mr. Peebles!’ sobbed the girl. ‘I love him!’ ‘Any fool could see that,’ said the old man, with a chuckle which was half a sob. ‘I love him, too, the rascal! Ye must hasten home, Lady Dulcie. My lord needs watching, and ’tis weel ye should be with him, for the boy’s sake.’ Dulcie dried her tears, and called Rosie, who answered the summons at once. ‘You’ll take care of him?’ she said to Peebles. ‘You’ll see that he comes to no harm?’ ‘Trust me for that,’ said Peebles. ‘There, there, my bonny doo, tak’ comfort. He’ll be yours yet.’ ‘Oh, how good you are!’ cried Dulcie. She threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him on either cheek with right goodwill. ‘That’s for Desmond’s sake. Mind, I trust in _you_.’ Left alone, Peebles stood for some moments in a cataleptic condition, till he recovered his senses, and refreshed his brain with a liberal pinch of snuff from his waistcoat pocket. ‘Peebles, ye old villain!’ he said to himself, ‘what’s gone wi’ your morality, lettin’ the lassies kiss you at your age! Aweel! a kiss like that from a pure lass is better than a bad man’s blessing. Never fear, Lady Dulcie, nae mischief shall befall Desmond Macartney if I can save him.’ CHAPTER VI.--THE MEETING IN THE GRAVEYARD.