I do not know whether she succeeded in conveying this impression to Mr Somerville’s mind. But yet it was a relief to her to pour out her heart, to tell all her trouble; and the old lawyer had a sympathetic ear. They sat long together, going over the case, and he insisted that she should share his lunch with him, and not go back to the Hewan fasting after the long agitating morning. Even that was a relief to Mrs Ogilvy, though she was scarcely aware of it, and in her heart believed that she was very impatient to get away. But the quiet meal was grateful to her, with her kind old friend taking an interest in her, persuading her to eat, pouring out a modest glass of wine, paying all the attention possible in his old-fashioned old-world way. She was very anxious to get back, and yet the tranquil reflection gave her a sense of peace and comfort to which she had been long a stranger. There were still people in the world who were kind, who were willing to help her, who would listen and understand what she had to bear, who believed everything that was good about Robbie,--that he had been “led away,” but was now anxious, very anxious, to return to righteous ways. Mrs Ogilvy’s heart grew lighter in spite of herself, even though the news was not good--though she ascertained that there was certainly an American officer in Edinburgh whose mission was to track out the fugitives. “He must not stay at the Hewan--it would be most dangerous for Robert: you must get him to go away,” the old gentleman said. “If I could but get him to do that! but, oh, you know by yourself how hard it is for the like of me, that never shut my doors in my life to a stranger, to say to a man, Go!--a man that is a well-spoken man, and has a great deal of good in him, and has no parents of his own, and never has had instruction nor even kindness to keep him right.” “Mrs Ogilvy, he is a murderer,” said Mr Somerville, severely. “Oh, but are you sure of that? If I were sure! But a man that sits at your table, that you see every day of his life, that does no harm, nor is unkind to any one--how is it possible to think he has done anything like that?” “But, my dear lady,” said Mr Somerville, “it is true.” “Oh,” cried Mrs Ogilvy, “how little do we know, when it comes to that, what’s true and what’s not true! He’s not what you would call a hardened criminal,” she said, with a pleading look. “It’s not a small matter,” said the lawyer, “to kill a man.” “Oh, it is terrible! I am not excusing him,” said Mrs Ogilvy, humbly.