Her words alarmed him a little, and made him forget for the instant his more important fears. But he took care to be gentle with her; it would not do to offend her! for was she not aware that where they stood was a door by which he went in and out? “You make me uneasy, Dawtie!” he said. “What book was it? Let me see it.” “I will, sir.” She turned to take it down, but the laird followed her, saying: “Point it out to me, Dawtie. I will get it.” She did so. It opened at the plate. “There is the mark!” she said. “I am right sorry.” “So am I!” returned the laird. “But,” he added, willing she should feel his clemency, and knowing the book was not a rare one, “it is a book still, and you will be more careful another time! For you must remember, Dawtie, that you don't come into this room to read the books, but to dust them. You can go to bed now with an easy mind, I hope!” Dawtie was so touched by the kindness and forbearance of her master that the tears rose in her eyes, and she felt strengthened for her task. What would she not have encountered for his deliverance! “Please, sir,” she said, “let me show you a thing you never perhaps happened to read!” And taking the book from his hand--he was too much astonished to retain it--she turned over the engraving, and showed him the passage which stated that the cup had disappeared from the possession of its owner, and had certainly been stolen. Finding he said not a word, she ventured to lift her eyes to his, and saw again the corpse-like face that had looked through the chink of the door. “What do you mean?” he stammered. “I do not understand!” His lips trembled: was it possible he had had to do with the stealing of it? The truth was this: he had learned the existence of the cup from this very book; and had never rested until, after a search of more than ten years, he at length found it in the hands of a poor man who dared not offer it for sale. Once in his possession, the thought of giving it up, or of letting the owner redeem it, had never even occurred to him. Yet the treasure made him rejoice with a trembling which all his casuistry would have found it hard to explain; for he would not confess to himself its real cause--namely, that his God-born essence was uneasy with a vague knowledge that it lay in the bosom of a thief. “Don't you think, sir,” said Dawtie, “that whoever has that cup ought to send it back to the place it was stolen from?”