"When a body comes of decent folks, he won't just care, maybe, to have their names brought up in a barrack-room. Ye never heard me say ought of my father or my mither?" "Never, M'Alister." "I'd a good hame," said the Highlander, with a decent pride in his tone. "It was a strict hame--I've no cause now, to deceive mysel', and I'm thinking it was a wee bit ower strict--but it was a good hame. I left it, man--I ran away." The glittering blue eyes turned sharply on the lad, and he went on:-- "A body doesna care to turn his byeganes oot for every fool to pick at. Did I ever speer about your past life, and whar ye came from?" "Never, M'Alister." "But that's no to say that, if I knew manners, I didna obsairve. And there's been things now and again, John Broom, that's gar'd me think that ye've had what I had, and done as I did. Did ye rin awa', laddie?" John Broom nodded his black head, but tears choked his voice. "Man!" said the Highlander, "ane word's as gude's a thousand. Gang back! Gang hame! There's the bit siller here that's to tak ye, and the love yonder that's waiting ye. Listen to a dying man, laddie, and gang hame!" "I doubt if they'd have me," sobbed John Broom, "I gave 'em a deal of trouble, M'Alister." "And d'ye think, lad, that that thought has na' cursed _me_, and keepit me from them that loved me? Aye, lad, and till this week I never overcame it." "Weel may I want to save ye, bairn," added the Highlander tenderly, "for it was the thocht of a' ye riskit for the like of me at the three roads that made me consider wi' mysel' that I've aiblins been turning my back a' my wilfu' life on love that's bigger than a man's deservings. It's near done now, and it'll never lie in my poor power so much as rightly to thank ye. It's strange that a man should set store by a good name that he doesna deserve; but if any blessings of mine could bring ye good, they're yours, that saved an old soldier's honour, and let him die respectit in his regiment." "Oh, M'Alister, let me fetch one of the chaplains to write a letter to fetch your father," cried John Broom. "The minister's been here this morning," said the Highlander, "and I've tell't him mair than I've tell't you. And he's jest directed me to put my sinful trust in the Father of us a'. I've sinned heaviest against _Him_, laddie, but His love is stronger than the lave." John Broom remained by his friend, whose painful fits of coughing, and of gasping for breath, were varied by intervals of seeming stupor. When a candle had been brought in and placed near the bed, the Highlander roused himself and asked,-- "Is there a Bible on yon table? Could ye read a bit to me, laddie?" There is little need to dwell on the bitterness of heart with which John Broom confessed,-- "I can't read big words, M'Alister." "Did ye never go to school?" said the Scotchman. "I didn't learn," said the poor boy; "I played." "Aye, aye. Weel, ye'll learn, when ye gang hame," said the Highlander, in gentle tones.