But as a wrong once done is indelible, the reproach of which Jean never dreamt, smote Bob’s conscience keenly, even while he protested vehemently, ‘I’m in the same mind. Could I be in any other to my auld true love Jean?’ And he cried again, ‘Oh, Jean! your tender mercies are baith kind and cruel,’ while he bowed himself in such an agony of shame as he had never yet felt for the past. He had even, for an instant, a notion that it must be the bitterest part of his punishment to have to put away from him, with his own hand, this ecstasy of hope and happiness for the future--not of himself alone but of his children. ‘I canna let your mercies be, Jean, I daurna let them be,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘Then I winna ask your leave, Bob,’ said Jean in her triumph of love, before the might of which Bob’s anguish and resistance went down. ‘It’s no me, it’s the bairns, who have won you, as I aye kenned they would,’ said Bob, taking heart again at the thought of his treasure; ‘and they will thank you as I couldna do--no, though I were to live to ninety-nine and never cease speaking your praises.’ END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET Transcriber’s Notes Obvious punctuation errors and omissions have been silently corrected. Page 41: “freely acknowleged” changed to “freely acknowledged” Page 55: “scorched outmeal” changed to “scorched oatmeal”