“Dawtie! Dawtie!” cried Alexa. “If you think that would have weighed with Andrew, I ought to have been his wife, for I know him better than you.” Dawtie smiled at that. “But I do know, mem,” she said, “that Andrew was fit to cast the lairdship frae him to comfort ony puir lassie. I would ha' lo'ed him a' the same.” “As I have done, Dawtie,” said Alexa, solemnly. “But he wouldn't have thrown _me_ away for you, if he hadn't loved you, Dawtie. Be sure of that. He might have made nothing of the lairdship, but he wouldn't have made nothing of me.” “That's true, mem. I dinna doobt it.” “I love him still--and you mustn't mind me saying it, Dawtie. There are ways of loving that are good, though there be some pain in them. Thank God, we have our children to look after. You will let me say _our_ children, won't you, Dawtie?” Some thought Alexa hard, some thought her cold, but the few that knew her knew she was neither; and some of my readers will grant that such a friend as Andrew was better than such a husband as George. THE END. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Elect Lady, by George MacDonald