“Na,” said Mrs. Murray, with a voice of pain; “nothing, lad! nothing, lad! You’ve been good to me and mine without knowing. You’ve saved my Jeanie’s life. But we’re proud folk, though we were not brought up like you. Nothing will we take but your love; and I’m no complaining. I bow to nature and my own sin. I’ve long repented, long repented; but that is neither here nor there; it cannot be expected that you should have any love to give.” “I don’t know what I have to give,” said Edgar. “I am too weary and heart-broken to know. Can you come with me now to see my sister?--I mean Miss Arden. I must tell her. Don’t be grieved or pained, for I cannot help it. It is hard.” “Ay, it is hard,” said Mrs. Murray; “Oh, it’s hard, hard! You were but a babe when I put you out of my arms; but I’ve yearned after you ever since. No, I’m asking no return; it’s no natural. You are more like to hate us than to love us. I acknowledge that.” “I don’t hate you,” said Edgar. He was torn asunder with conflicting feelings. Was it hatred or was it love? He could not tell which. “I’m ready to put my hands on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust,” she went on. “I’ve sinned and sinned sore against the Lord and against you. You were the only one left of all your mother’s bairns; and she was dead, and he was dead--all gone that belonged to you but me--and my hands full, full of weans and of troubles. I had the love for you, but neither time nor bread, and I was sore, sore tempted. They said to me there was none to be wronged, but only a house to be made glad. Oh, lad, I sinned; and most I have sinned against you.” He could not say no. His heart seemed shut up and closed against her. He could utter no forgiveness. It was true--quite true. She had sinned against him. Squire Arden was deeply to blame, but she, too, had sinned. There was not a word to say. “When you said mother, I thought my heart would burst with joy. I thought the Lord had sent to you the spirit to forgive. But I canna expect it; I canna look for it. Oh, no! I wouldna be ungrateful, good Lord! He has his bonnie mother’s heart to serve his neighbour, and his father’s that died for the poor, like Christ. I maunna complain. He has a heart like his kin though no for me!” “Tell me what you mean,” cried Edgar, with a thrill of emotion tingling to his very finger-points; “or rather come with me, come with me. Clare must know all now----” “And Jeanie is sleeping,” she said. “I’ll cry upon that good woman to watch her, and I’ll do your bidding. God bless you, lad, for Jeanie’s life!”