“Nae fears,” said the sagacious Saunders Delvie, Mossgray’s man, as Mrs Mense expressed her fears to him, that the strength of “the young Laird” might be taxed too greatly; “it’s naething but a maggot. I’ll just gie him till he wearies; when he’s dune out, he can aye rest when he likes, and that’s mair than ye can say for mony a hard-working man. Gie him the length o’ his tether; _he’ll_ tire sooner than anybody else.” “Ay, but Mr Halbert’s an active lad,” said the housekeeper; “and so was his father before him; if the tane had but been as innocent as the tither; but ane canna mend what’s past.” A frown came darkly over the face of Mossgray’s man. “Ye say weel, neighbour; but an folk canna mend their ill deeds they maun tak the penalty. If it’s but in this world it’s weel for themsels, and if it’s in another pairt than this, it’s a’ the mair just and righteous.” “Oh, Saunders Delvie,” exclaimed Janet Mense, “ye’re a hard man!” “Maister Charlie Graeme did sair ill to this house,” said Mrs Mense emphatically, “and meant mair than he could do--but for a’ that, look at the Laird, Saunders, and learn by him. Is he no making this lad like a son o’ Mossgray? is he no doing a’ that the kindest father could do for him? but no to speak o’ the Laird, Saunders, there’s mysel. I likit Miss Lucy Murray weel, and there was never ane but likit Mr Adam; and baith o’ them did that lad’s faither do his warst to bring to misery. I am a lone woman, and have nae bairns o’ my ain; but the time my heart was warmest and fullest, thae young folk--though they were gentles, and no like me, were gaun and coming about the house, and I thought mair o’ them than ever I did o’ mysel. But for a’ the ill he did to them--Saunders, I mind that we need mercy oursels every day, and I can say, Charlie Graeme, I forgive ye.” “Ay,” said Saunders Delvie sternly, “but he didna dishonour the honest name that your forbears and you had laboured in puirtith and hard toil to keep free of offence in the sight of God and man. He wasna that near to you, that his shame should be yours to bear, the very time that your ain misery for his sin was rugging at your heart; ye dinna ken--and I seek nocht but to bear my ain burden out of the sicht of man.” His bushy gray eyebrows twitched--his face was moved; this man too had a history. “Eh, but Saunders, man!” continued the good old housekeeper with some timidity, “it’s no like you--I’m meaning it’s no like what we should do to be so hard on the puir lad; mind how young he was; and for a’ that he did ance ill, mind that he’s your ain.”