Jock’s countenance began to assume that excited expression which the vivid recollection of his past life, especially of his youth, seemed always to produce. But he now tried to check himself, when the symptoms of his hysteria began to manifest themselves in the muscles of his throat, by rising and taking a few paces to and fro on the heather, as if resolved to regain his self-possession, and not to leave his newly-acquired friend the keeper under the impression that he was either desperately wicked or incurably insane. A new motive had come into play--a portion of his heart which had lain, as it were, dormant until stimulated by the Sergeant’s kindness, had assumed a power which was rapidly, under benign influences, gaining the ascendancy. In spite of, or rather perhaps because of, his inward struggle, his face for a moment became deadly pale. His hands were clenched. He seemed as if discharging from every muscle a stream of suddenly-generated electricity. Turning at length to Hugh, he said, with knit brow and keenly-piercing eyes, "What made ye ax me sic a question, Mr. Spence?--What for? I’ll no’ tell ye, for I canna tell you or ony man hoo I was brocht up!" But he did tell him--as if forced to do so in order to get rid of the demon--much of what our readers already know of those sad days of misery. "And noo," he added, "had ye been like a wild fox and the hoonds after ye, or nae mair cared for than a doug wi’ a kettle at its tail, hidin’ half mad up a close ayont a midden; or a cat nigh staned to death, pechin’ its life awa’ in a hole; and if ye kent never a man or woman but wha hated ye, and if ye hated them; and, waur than a’, if ye heard your ain faither and mither cursin’ ye frae the time ye war a bairn till they gaed awa’ in their coffins, wi’ your curses followin’ after them,--ye wad ken what it was to hae ae freend on yirth;--and noo I hae mair than ane!" And poor Jock, for the first time probably in his life, sobbed like a child. Spence said nothing but "Puir fellow!" and whiffed his pipe, which he had just lighted, with more than usual vehemence. Jock soon resumed his usual calm, "As one whose brain demoniac frenzy fires Owes to his fit, in which his soul hath tost, Profounder quiet, when the fit retires,-- Even so the dire phantasma which had crost His sense, in sudden vacancy quite lost, Left his mind still as a deep evening stream". The keeper, hardly knowing what to say, remarked, "It’s ae consolation, that your wicked faither and mither will be weel punished noo for a’ their sins. _Ye_ needna curse them! They’re beyond ony hairm that ye can do them. They’re cursed eneuch, I’se warrant, wi’oot your meddlin’ wi’ them." "Guid forbid!" exclaimed Jock. "I houp no’! I houp no’! That wad be maist awfu’!" "Maybe," said the keeper; "but it’s what they deserve frae the han’ o’ justice. And surely when their ain bairn curses them, _he_ can say naethin’ against it."