Crathie's brain until he grew old and had done wrong enough to heed it, when it rose upon him in a dream, and had its way. Henceforth the claims of his neighbor began to reveal themselves, and his mind to breed conscientious doubts and scruples, with which, struggle as he might against it, a certain respect for Malcolm would keep coming and mingling--a feeling which grew with its returns, until, by slow changes, he began at length to regard him as the minister of God's vengeance for his punishment, and perhaps salvation--who could tell? Lizzy's nightly ministrations had not been resumed, but she often called, and was a good deal with him; for Mrs. Crathie had learned to like the humble, helpful girl still better when she found she had taken no offence at being deprived of her post of honor by his bed-side. One day, when Malcolm was seated, mending a net, among the thin grass and great red daisies of the links by the bank of the burn where it crossed the sands from the Lossie grounds to the sea, Lizzy came up to him and said, "The factor wad like to see ye, Ma'colm, as sune 's ye can gang till 'im." She waited no reply. Malcolm rose and went. At the factor's the door was opened by Mrs. Crathie herself, who, looking mysterious, led him to the dining-room, where she plunged at once into business, doing her best to keep down all manifestation of the profound resentment she cherished against him. Her manner was confidential, almost coaxing. "Ye see, Ma'colm," she said, as if pursuing instead of commencing a conversation, "he's some sore about the _fraicass_ between him an' you. Jest make your apoalogies till 'im, an' tell 'im you had a drop too much, and you're soary for misbehavin' yerself to wann sae much your shuperrior. Tell 'im that, Ma'colm, an' there's a half-croon to ye." She wished much to speak English, and I have tried to represent the thing she did speak, which was neither honest Scotch nor anything like English. Alas! the good, pithy, old Anglo-Saxon dialect is fast perishing, and a jargon of corrupt English taking its place! "But, mem," said Malcolm, taking no notice either of the coin or the words that accompanied the offer of it, "I canna lee: I wasna in drink, an' I'm no sorry." "Hoot!" returned Mrs. Crathie, blurting out her Scotch fast enough now, "I s' warran' ye can lee weel eneuch whan ye hae occasion. Tak yer siller an' du as I tell ye." "Wad ye hae me damned, mem?" Mrs. Crathie gave a cry and held up her hands. She was too well accustomed to imprecations from the lips of her husband for any but an affected horror, but, regarding the honest word as a bad one, she assumed an air of injury. "Wad ye daur to sweir afore a leddy?" she exclaimed, shaking her uplifted hands in pretence of ghasted astonishment. "If Mr. Crathie wishes to see me, ma'am," rejoined Malcolm, taking up the shield of English, "I am ready. If not, please allow me to go."