"When I arrived, a proud man was my father of me and my acquirements; and from that time forth, he had morning and evening service every day in his family--a thing he never had before, except on Sunday. "And, oh! there was one that welcomed me back, with a smile and a tear, and a trembling of the tongue, and a heaving of her beautiful bosom, that was dearer, far dearer to me than father or friends, although I had a warm heart for them too. It was Jessy Miller, the only daughter of Rob Miller the carrier's widow, a tall fair-skinned lassie, with raven locks, and dark hazel eyes, and a face and figure with which none of the village girls could compare. "'Ye are welcome home again, Saunders--heartily welcome; and you'll be glad to hear that the young leddies at the hall--the laird's sisters, ye ken--have been very kind to me and my mother baith, and that I go up there every day to work for them; and they have made me many a handsome present, as you see, Saunders, and many a good book have they sent me; and the young laird, Mr Adderfang, has come hame, ye will have heard,'--I started, for I had not heard it,--'and he is really very civil to us also.' We were speaking in a little bit green, at the western-most end of the village. There was a clump of horse chestnuts behind us, through which the breeze was rushing with a rustling sough, but it was neither strong enough nor loud enough to drown the buzzing, or rather moaning noise of the numberless bees that were gathering honey from its blossoms, for it was in June; or the rushing murmur of the clear sparkling burnie, that wimpled past at our feet, with a bit crazy wooden brig across it, beyond which a field of hay, ready for the scythe, was waving in the breeze, with the shadows of the shreds of summer clouds sailing along its green undulations, as they racked across the face of the sun. "At the moment when the mention of the young laird's name by Jessy Miller, for he was known to be a wild graceless slip, had sent the blood back to my heart with a chill--a larger cloud than any that had gone before threw its black shadow over where we sat, while all around was blithe breeze and merry sunshine. It appeared to linger--I took Jessy's hand, and pointed upwards. I thought she shrank, and that her fingers were cold and clammy. She tried to smile, but it ended in a faint hysterical laugh, as she said,--'Saunders, man, ye're again at your vagaries, and omens, and nonsense; what for do ye look that gate at me, man?' "'I canna help it, Jessy--no, for the soul of me, I cannot--why does the heaven frown on you and me only, when it smiles on all things beside?'