When Leezabeth brought word that Dr. Mac-lure had ridden into the “close,” Drumsheugh knew for what end he had come, but it was characteristic of Drumtochty that after they had exhausted local affairs, he should be stricken dumb and stare into the fire with averted face. For a space the doctor sat silent, because we respected one another's souls in the Glen, and understood the agony of serious speech, but at last he judged it right to give assistance. “Ye said laist nicht that ye hed something tae say.” “A'm comin' tae't; juist gie me twa meenuts mair.” But it was ten before Drumsheugh opened his mouth, although he arranged himself in his chair and made as though he would speak three times. “Weelum,” he said at last, and then he stopped, for his courage had failed. “A 'm hearin', Drum; tak yir ain time; the fire 's needin' mendin',” and the light, blazing up suddenly, showed another Drumsheugh than was known on Muirtown market. “It's no easy, Weelum, tae say onything that gangs deeper than the weather an' cattle beasts.” Drumsheugh passed his hand across his forehead, and Maclure's pity was stirred. “Gin ye hae dune onything wrang, an' ye want tae relieve yir mind, ye may lippen tae me, Drumsheugh, though it titch yir life. A' can haud ma tongue, an' a 'm a leal man. “A' thocht it wesna that,” as Drumsheugh shook his head; “a'm jidgin' that ye hae a sorrow the Glen disna ken, and wud like an auld freend tae feel the wecht o't wi' ye.” Drumsheugh looked as if that was nearer the mark, but still he was silent. “A', ken what ye're feelin' for a' cudna speak masel,” and then he added, at the sight of his friend's face, “Dinna gar yirsel speak against yir wull. We 'ill say naethin' mair aboot it.... Did ye hear o' Hillocks coupin' intae the drift till there wes naethin' seen but his heels, and Gormack sayin', 'Whar are ye aff tae noo, Hillocks?'” “A' maun speak,” burst out Drumsheugh; “a've carried ma tribble for mair than thirty year, and cud hae borne it till the end, but ae thing a' canna stand, an' that is, that aither you or me dee afore a've cleared ma name.” “Yir name?” and the doctor regarded Drumsheugh with amazement. “Ay, ma character; a've naethin' else, Weelum, naither wife nor bairns, so a'm jealous o't, though fouk michtna think it. “Noo, gin onybody in Muirtown askit ma certeeficat o' a Drumtochty neebur, gie me his answer,” and Drumsheugh turned suddenly on Maclure, who was much confused. “Nae Drumtochty man wud say ony ill o' ye; he daurna, for ye've gien him nae occasion, an' ye surely ken that yirsel withoot askin'.” But Drumsheugh was still waiting. “He micht say that ye were juist a wee,” and then he broke off, “but what need ye care for the havers of a market? fouk 'ill hae their joke.” “Ye said a wee; what is't, Weelum?” and the doctor saw there was to be no escape.