‘Ay, ye have the cant of it too!’ cries Montroymont. ‘But I’ll tell ye for all that. It’s to try and see if we can keep the rigging on this house, Francie. If she had her way, we would be beggar-folk, and hold our hands out by the wayside. When ye hear her—when ye hear folk,’ he corrected himself briskly, ‘call me a coward, and one that betrayed the Lord, and I kenna what else, just mind it was to keep a bed to ye to sleep in and a bite for ye to eat.—On guard!’ he cried, and the lesson proceeded again till they were called to supper. ‘There’s another thing yet,’ said Francie, stopping his father. ‘There’s another thing that I am not sure that I am very caring for. She—she sends me errands.’ ‘Obey her, then, as is your bounden duty,’ said Traquair. ‘Ay, but wait till I tell ye,’ says the boy. ‘If I was to see you I was to hide.’ Montroymont sighed. ‘Well, and that’s good of her too,’ said he. ‘The less that I ken of thir doings the better for me; and the best thing you can do is just to obey her, and see and be a good son to her, the same as ye are to me, Francie.’ At the tenderness of this expression the heart of Francie swelled within his bosom, and his remorse was poured out. ‘Faither!’ he cried, ‘I said “deil” to-day; many’s the time I said it, and _damnable_ too, and _hellitsh_. I ken they’re all right; they’re beeblical. But I didna say them beeblically; I said them for sweir words—that’s the truth of it.’ ‘Hout, ye silly bairn!’ said the father, ‘dinna do it nae mair, and come in by to your supper.’ And he took the boy, and drew him close to him a moment, as they went through the door, with something very fond and secret, like a caress between a pair of lovers. The next day M‘Brair was abroad in the afternoon, and had a long advising with Janet on the braes where she herded cattle. What passed was never wholly known; but the lass wept bitterly, and fell on her knees to him among the whins. The same night, as soon as it was dark, he took the road again for Balweary. In the Kirkton, where the dragoons quartered, he saw many lights, and heard the noise of a ranting song and people laughing grossly, which was highly offensive to his mind. He gave it the wider berth, keeping among fields; and came down at last by the water-side, where the manse stands solitary between the river and the road. He tapped at the back door, and the old woman called upon him to come in, and guided him through the house to the study, as they still called it, though there was little enough study there in Haddo’s days, and more song-books than theology. ‘Here’s yin to speak wi’ ye, Mr. Haddie!’ cries the old wife. And M‘Brair, opening the door and entering, found the little, round, red man seated in one chair and his feet upon another. A clear fire and a tallow dip lighted him barely. He was taking tobacco in a pipe, and smiling to himself; and a brandy-bottle and glass, and his fiddle and bow, were beside him on the table.