“Weel, An'rew, gien the Lord hasna appeart in His ain likeness to deliver me, He's done the next best thing.” “Dawtie,” answered Andrew, “the Lord never does the next best. The thing He does is always better than the thing He does not.” “Lat me think, an' I'll try to un'erstan',” said Dawtie, but Andrew went on. “The best thing, whan a body's no ready for 't, would be the warst to gie him--or ony gait no the thing for the Father o' lichts to gie. Shortbreid micht be waur for a half hungert bairn nor a stane. But the minute it's fit we should look upo' the face o' the Son o' Man, oor ain God-born brither, we'll see him, Dawtie; we'll see him. Hert canna think what it'll be like. And noo, Dawtie, wull ye tell me what for ye wouldna lat me come and see ye afore?” “I wull, An'rew; I was nae suner left to mysel' i' the prison than I faun' mysel' thinkin' aboot _you_--you first, and no the Lord. I said to mysel', 'This is awfu'. I'm leanin' upo' An'rew, and no upo' the First and the Last.' I saw that that was to brak awa' frae Him that was nearest me, and trust ane that was farther awa'--which wasna i' the holy rizzon o' things. Sae I said to mysel' I would meet my fate wi' the Lord alane, and wouldna hae you come 'atween Him and me. Noo ye hae 't, An'rew.” Andrew took her in his arms and said: “Thank ye, Dawtie. Eh, but I _am_ content And she thought she hadna faith. Good-night, Dawtie. Ye maun gane to yer bed, an' grow stoot in hert for the morn.” CHAPTER XXXV. AFTER THE VERDICT. Through the governor of the jail Andrew obtained permission to stand near the prisoner at the trial. The counsel for the prosecution did all he could, and the counsel for the defense not much--at least Dawtie's friends thought so--and the judge summed up with the greatest impartiality. Dawtie's simplicity and calmness, her confidence devoid of self-assertion, had its influence on the jury, and they gave the uncomfortable verdict of “_Not Proven_,” so that Dawtie was discharged. Alexa had a carriage ready to take her home. As Dawtie went to it she whispered to her husband: “Ye hae to tak me wantin' a character, Andrew.” “Jesus went home without a character, and was well received,” said Andrew, with a smile. “You'll be over to-night to see the old folk?” “Yes, Andrew; I'm sure the mistress will let me.” “Don't say a word to her of our marriage, except she has heard, and mentions it. I want to tell her myself. You will find me at the croft when you come, and I will go back with you.” In the evening Dawtie came, and brought the message that her mistress would like to see him. When he entered the room Alexa rose to meet him. He stopped short. “I thank you, ma'am,” he said, “for your great kindness to Dawtie. We were married in the prison. She is my wife now.” “Married! Your wife?” echoed Alexa, flushing, and drawing back a step. “I had loved her long, ma'am; and when trouble came her the time came for me to stand by her side.”