The deacon could make no more of him. He went home, and reported the result of the negotiation to his wife, who despaired of success, but overpowered her husband with thanks for what he had done. She had a secret wish that he should do more--viz., call upon Mrs Jean Todd herself, and solicit her. The difficulty of accomplishing this was to herself apparent; but she was determined to carry her point in some way or another; so she straightway began to weep bitterly, crying that her father would be ruined; but never hinting any remedy for her distress. This paroxysm of affected grief produced its usual effect upon the proud husband; who, hard as a rock when attempted to be dictated to, was as weak as a child when attacked with tears, and an apparent helpless subjugation to his high will. He took the weeping wife in his arms, and asked her what more he could do to assist her father in this emergency. "There's only ae way," said she, wiping her eyes; "there's just ae remedy for our case." "What is it, my love?" said the deacon. "I canna mention't," said the cunning wife. "It's against a' the high and proud feelins o' yer noble natur." "But we are sometimes obliged to sacrifice our feelins," said the gratified deacon. "Speak, my dear Margaret; ye ken wha ye're speakin to. What is your remedy?" "It's to ca' upon Mrs Jean Todd yersel," said she, holding away her head, while another burst of tears overtook her voluntarily. The deacon started back in amazement. The request _was_ against all the feelings of his nature. The proud stickler for marital rule was in an extraordinary position: first, his wife was governing him at that moment, unknown to himself; and, secondly, he was requested to sue, at the feet of a woman, for liberty to her husband to act as he chose. "Margaret," said the deacon, "_you_, I am sure, dinna ask me to overturn, at ae blow, a' the principles o' my life, conversation, and conduct?" "Na, Murdoch," said she, throwing her arms round his neck, and weeping again--"na, na; _I_ dinna _ask_ ye." "But ye maybe wish it, my dear Peggy," replied he, whimpering. "Necessity is a great power: maybe ye feel _compelled_ to wish it." "Maybe I do," said the wife, with another burst. "Weel, Peggy, dry up yer tears, my love," said the conquered lord; "I'll awa to Mrs Jean Todd."