“Na, na; it wes ower late, an' wud only hae vexed her. Howe and her hed been bairns thegither, an' a 've heard he wes kind tae her father when he wes sober (weakly), an' so... he got her hert. A' cudna hae changed her, but a' micht hae made her meeserable. “A' leaned ower that stile for twa lang oors. Mony a time a 've been there sin' then, by nicht and day. Hoo the Glen wud lauch, for a 'm no the man they see. A' saw the sun gae doon that nicht, an' a' felt the darkness fa' on me, an' a' kent the licht hed gane oot o' ma life for ever.” “Ye carried yersel like a man, though,” and the doctor's voice was full of pride, “but ye 've hed a sair battle, Drum, an' nae man tae say weel dune.” “Dinna speak that wy, Weelum, for a 'm no say gude as ye 're thinkin'; frae that oor tae Geordie's illness a never spak ae word o' kindness tae Marget, an' gin hatred wud hae killed him, she wud hae lost her bridegroom. “Gude forgie me,” and the drops stood on Drumsheugh's forehead. “When Hoo cudna pay, and he wes tae be turned oot of Whinnie Knowe, a' lauched tae masel, though there isna a kinder, simpler heart in the Glen than puir Whinnie's. There maun be some truth in thae auld stories aboot a deevil; he hed an awfu' grup o' me the end o' that year. “But a' never hatit her; a' think a've luvit her mair every year; and when a' thocht o' her trachlin' in some bit hoosie as a plooman's wife, wha wes fit for a castle, ma hert wes melted. “Gin she hed gien me her luve, wha never knew a' wantit it, a' wud hae spilt ma blude afore ye felt care, an' though ye sees me naethin' but a cankered, contrackit, auld carle this day, a' wud hae made her happy aince, Weelum. A' wes different when a' wes young,” and Drumsheugh appealed to his friend. “Dinna misca' yersel tae me, Drum; it's nae use,” said the doctor, with a shaky voice. “Weel, it wesna tae be,” resumed Drumsheugh after a little; “a' cudna be her man, but it seemed tae me ae day that a' micht work for Marget a' the same, an' naebody wud ken. So a' gied intae Muirtown an' got a writer--” The doctor sprang to his feet in such excitement as was hardly known in Drumtochty. “What a fule ye 've made o' the Glen, Drumsheugh, and what a heepocrite ye 've been. It wes you then that sent hame the money frae Ameriky 'at cleared Whinnie's feet and set Marget and him up bien (plentiful) like on their merrid,” and then Maclure could do the rest for himself without assistance. “It wud be you tae 'at started Whinnie again aifter the Pleuro took his cattle, for he wes aye an unlucky wratch, an' if it wesna you that deed oot in New York and sa vit him five years ago, when the stupid body pit his name tae Piggie's bill. It's you 'at wes Whinnie's far-awa' cousin, wha hed gotten rich and sent hame help through the lawyer, an' naebody suspeckit onything.