‘His listin’ was a sair heart-break to me, for he had aye been sae guid an’ sae kind, an’ was the only stay that I had. Did he ever tell you what was the reason o’ him listin’?’ ‘No,’ said I. ‘No, no, he was owre proud-spirited for that, puir fellow; but he is no the first that a silly woman has driven to ruin; an’ it’s a waesome thocht to me that a heart like his shou’d hae been thrown awa’ on a worthless tawpy, that didna care a preen about him.’ Having expressed a wish to hear the story to which she alluded, she proceeded: CHAPTER VII. THE MOTHER’S STORY. ‘When my gudeman died, I was left wi’ twa bairns, a boy an’ a girl. We had six in family, but Willie and Mary were a’ the Lord was pleased to leave wi’ us. It was by dint o’ hard wark that I could keep them in meat an’ claes, an’ gi’e them schoolin’; but they were guid bairns, an’ when Willie cam in frae his school, an’ sat down by my wheel side, an’ asked me to let him read the bonny lesson for me that he had learned out o’ that Bible, I cou’dna been happier if I had been possessed o’ a’ Glasgow. They baith grew up fond o’ me, an’ fond o’ ane anither, an’ Willie improved sae much in his education that I got him engaged in a warehouse as a clerk, where he gied great satisfaction to his master; and when he cam hame at night, instead of spending his time like idle, glaiket creatures o’ his ain age, he wou’d sit an’ read for his sister an’ me, or else be busy at his drawing, or sometimes he would play the flute, while Mary sang, and I wad sit wi’ my heart at my mouth wi’ perfect joy. Oh! thae were happy days—little did I then think that I wad now be sittin’ mournin’ the loss o’ a’ that I thocht worth livin’ for. Yet I had a mistrust about me, that I was owre happy for ’t to last lang; but oh I didna think I was to drink the cup o’ affliction sae deep as I hae done.’ The old woman’s feelings here became uncontrollable, and the tears trickled down her furrowed cheeks in quick succession; but, recovering herself in a few minutes, she clasped her hands, and, looking up to Heaven with pious resignation, she said, ‘“Thy will be done,”—“The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord,”—I hope I’ll soon meet wi’ them, where we’ll ne’er part again.’ She continued:—‘Willie had been about three years in the warehouse, an’ his maister had such a respect for him, that he gied Mary an’ me as much sewing as we cou’d do at hame. ‘It was about this time that we got neebors in the house but an’ ben wi’ us,—kind an’ sober fo’k they were, an’ we were unco freendly wi’ ane anither. They had ae dochter that their hearts were bund up in, owre muckle bund up for her gude. She was as bonny a lassie as ye cou’d hae seen in a day’s walkin’, an’ free an’ light-hearted; but she was sae much dawted by her faither an’ mother, an’ her beauty sae roosed by ither fo’k, that stronger heads than her’s micht been turn’d wi’t.