Should he?--shouldn't he? The night was dark and gusty, and he had sat thinking till it was long past twelve. There was nothing to go for, and the lassie's light might be out, and she fast asleep in bed long enough before; but then he would have the satisfaction of knowing that all was right, and for months past now he had not missed a night. He did not think he would go, though, for it was evident now that Jane was beginning to think a little of his words, and no doubt matters would soon brighten up and be settled. No, he would not go to-night--there was no need; and upon the strength of that resolution he took off his coat, and methodically hung it behind the door. Then out came his snuff-box, when a pinch or two seemed to drive away the happy ease engendered by the whisky and water, clearing his brain, and forcing him to think of the realities of life. "No," he thought now, "it would not be right to give up what he had taught himself was a duty. How did he know but what, after all, that John Gurdon might come back that very night, and put back in a few moments what it had taken him months to erase?" "I'll go," said Sandy, "if its only for the name of the thing. I mean to win the lassie if leaving no stone unturned will do it; and now, here's a little wee bit of crag lying in my way, and I'm too idle to touch it. Sandy McCray, take your cap, mon, and go and do your duty. It's the little tiny cracks that open out into big splits, so stop them up when they're small. Keep your trees pruned back, my lad, or they'll grow wild and ragged; and whenever ye feel a weed coming up in your nature, pull him up direct. This bit of wanting to stop away is a weed, lad, so pull it up at once." Sandy McCray must have taken it out by the very roots, for the next minute he had closed his door, and was stealthily walking over the grass towards the pleasure-grounds. There was not a step of the way that was not familiar, and on the darkest night he could have avoided every flower-bed, as if by instinct, or even have made his way blindfold; hence he had soon crossed the bridge, and walked softly on towards the great lawn, noting, as he went, that there was not a single light visible in the great mansion. "I'll just go the length of the place, and then stop for a moment by the lassie's window, and home again," muttered McCray, and then he stopped short, for a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a voice whispered in his ear: "Stay here a few minutes, Joe. He's gone to have a look up at the back windows, and I'll go this side. Don't move, because it's so confoundedly dark!"