Before the gathering broke up, the farmer put the big Bible in the hands of the soutar, with the request that he would lead their prayers; and this was very nearly what he said:—“O God, to whom we belang, hert and soul, body and blude and banes, hoo great art thou, and hoo close to us, to haud the richt ower us o’ sic a gran’ and fair, sic a just and true ownership! We bless thee hertily, rejicin in what thoo hast made us, and still mair in what thoo art thysel! Tak to thy hert, and haud them there, these thy twa repentant sinners, and thy ain little ane and theirs, wha’s innocent as thoo hast made him. Gie them sic grace to bring him up, that he be nane the waur for the wrang they did him afore he was born; and lat the knowledge o’ his parents’ faut haud him safe frae onything siclike! and may they baith be the better for their fa’, and live a heap the mair to the glory o’ their Father by cause o’ that slip! And gien ever the minister should again preach thy word, may it be wi’ the better comprehension, and the mair fervour; and to that en’ gie him to un’erstan’ the hicht and deepth and breid and len’th o’ thy forgivin love. Thy name be gloryfeed! Amen!” “Na, na, I’ll never preach again!” whispered James to the soutar, as they rose from their knees. “I winna be a’thegither sure o’ that!” returned the soutar. “Doobtless ye’ll dee as the Spirit shaws ye!” James made no answer, and neither spoke again that night. The next morning, James sent to the clerk of the synod his resignation of his parish and office. No sooner had Marion, repentant under her husband’s terrible rebuke, set herself to resist her rampant pride, than the indwelling goodness swelled up in her like a reviving spring, and she began to be herself again, her old and lovely self. Little Peter, with his beauty and his winsome ways, melted and scattered the last lingering rack of her fog-like ambition for her son. Twenty times in a morning would she drop her work to catch up and caress her grandchild, overwhelming him with endearments; while over the return of his mother, her second Isy, now her daughter indeed, she soon became jubilant. From the first publication of the banns, she had begun cleaning and setting to rights the parlour, meaning to make it over entirely to Isy and James; but the moment Isy discovered her intent, she protested obstinately: it should not, could not, must not be! The very morning after the wedding she was down in the kitchen, and had put the water on the fire for the porridge before her husband was awake. Before her new mother was down, or her father-in-law come in from his last preparations for the harvest, it was already boiling, and the table laid for breakfast.