and was easily led away. Allison was far the stronger of the two, even when they were children. It breaks my heart to think what a woman she might have become in favourable circumstances, and now, I fear, she has much suffering before her. Her mother’s helplessness—she was bedridden for years before she died—laid too much on Allison, and she has grown changed, they say, and hard. She was ay more like her father than her mother, except for her sweet looks.”

“And how came the marriage about at last? And where was her brother?”

“He had fallen into trouble by that time. He had got in with ill folk that made use of him for their own purposes. There had been much meddling with the game on the Blackhills estate, and one night one of the gamekeepers got a sore hurt in a fight with some of those who had been long suspected. His life was despaired of for a time, and it was on Willie Bain that the blame was laid. At any rate he kept out of the way. It was said afterward that Brownrig had wrought on his fears through some of his companions, and in the meantime to save her brother, as she thought, Allison’s consent was won.”

“It will be an ill day for Brownrig when Allison shall hear of that.”

“I doubt she has heard of it already. All I know is soon told. Brownrig came to me one night, saying that Allison Bain had promised to marry him, and that the marriage must be in haste for this reason and for that, and chiefly because the mother was near her end, and would die happier knowing that her dear daughter was in good keeping. This was for me, it seemed—for I was told afterward that the mother was in no state for days before that to know what was going on about her.

“As for me, I had many doubts. But I had no opportunity to speak to her or her father till after their names had been cried in the kirk, and I thought it was too late to speak then. But oh, man! I wish I had. For when he brought her down to the manse with only two friends to witness the marriage, and I saw her face, my heart misgave me, and I had to say a word to her whatever might happen. So, when Brownrig’s back was turned for a minute, I took her by the hand, and we went into my study together; and I asked her, was she a willing bride? Then there came a look on her face like the shadow of death; but before she had power to utter a word, the door opened, and Brownrig came in. An angry man was he, and for a minute he looked as if he would strike me down, as I stood holding her hands in mine.

“‘Allison,’ I said, ‘you must speak to me. Remember this thing which you are to do will be forever. When once the words are spoken there can be no escape. May God help you.’

“She wrung her hands from mine, and cried out:—

“‘There is no escape now. And God has forgotten us.’ And then she looked round about her like a caged creature seeking for a way out of it all. When Brownrig would have put his hand on her, though he did it gently, she shrank from him as if she feared a blow. The man’s eyes were like coals of fire; but he was a strong man, and he put great constraint upon himself, and said calmly:—

“‘I am at a loss to understand what you would be at, sir. You heard the banns published. Was there any in the kirk that day who had a word to say against it? I think you can hardly refuse to do your part.’

“I said, ‘Allie, where is your brother? What does he say to all this? What says he to his sister’s marriage to a man old enough to be her father?’

“Brownrig’s face was an ill thing to see, but he said quietly enough, ‘Yes, Allie, my woman, tell him where your brother is,—if ye ken, and where he is like to be soon if he gets his deserts. Speak, lassie. Tell the minister if you are going to draw back from your word now.’

“A great wave of colour came over her face, and it was not till this had passed, leaving it as white as death, that she said hoarsely that it had to be, and there was no use to struggle against it more.

“‘He has promised one thing,’ said she, ‘and he shall promise it now in your presence. I am to go straight home to my father’s house, and he is not to trouble me nor come near me till my mother is safe in her grave.’

“And then she turned to him: ‘You hear? Now you are to repeat the promise in the minister’s hearing, before we go out of this room.’

“He would fain have refused, and said one thing and another, and hummed and hawed, and would have taken her hand to lead her away; but she put her hands behind her and said he must speak before she would go.

“‘And is not a promise to yourself enough? And will you draw back if I refuse?’ But he did not persist in his refusal to speak, for she looked like one who was fast losing hold of herself, and he must have been afraid of what might happen next. For he said gently, always keeping a great restraint upon himself, ‘Yes, I have promised. You shall stay in your father’s house while your mother needs you. I promise—though I think you might have trusted to what I said before.’

“Alex, my lad, I would give all I have in the world if I had but held out another hour. For the words that made them man and wife, were hardly spoken, when that happened which might have saved to them both a lifetime of misery. They had only passed through the gate on their way home, when down the hillside, like a madman, came Willie Bain. And far and hard he must have run, for he was spent and gasping for breath when he came and put his hand upon his sister. ‘Allie!’ he said, ‘Allie!’ and he could say no more. But oh! the face of his sister! May I never see the like look on face of man or woman again.

“‘Willie,’ she said, ‘have you made what I have done vain? Why are you here?’

“‘What have you done, Allie? And why shouldna I be here? Stone is well again, even if it had been me that struck the blow—which it was not—though I might have had some risk of no’ being just able to prove it. Allie, what have you done?’

“But she only laid her white face on his breast without a word.

“‘Allie,’ gasped her brother, as he caught sight of Brownrig, ‘you havena given yourself to yon man—yon deevil, I should better say? They told me over yonder that it was to be, but I said you scorned him, and would stand fast.’

“‘Oh! Willie! Willie!’ she cried, ‘I scorned him, but for your sake I couldna stand fast.’

“Then Brownrig took up the word. ‘Young man, if you ken what is good for your ain safety, you’ll disappear again, and keep out o’ harm’s way. But that may be as pleases you. Only mind, you’ll have nothing to say to my wife.’

“‘Your wife! You black-hearted liar and villain!’ and many a worse word besides did the angry lad give him, and when Brownrig lifted his whip and made as if he meant to strike him, Willie turned from his sister and flew at him like a madman, and—though I maybe shouldna say it—Brownrig got his deserts for once, and he will carry the marks the lad left on him that day, to his grave. He was sore hurt. They put him into the gig in which he had brought Allison down to the manse, and carried him home, and the brother and sister walked together to their father’s house.

“Their mother was nearer her end than had been supposed, for she died that night, and before she was laid in her grave there came an officer with a warrant to arrest poor Willie on a charge of having done bodily harm to one of Blackwell’s keepers months before. Two of his cousins stood surety for him till after his mother’s burial. No evidence could be got against him in the matter and he was allowed to go free. And then like a daft man, Brownrig had him taken up again on a charge of assault with intent to kill. It was a mad thing for him to do, if he ever hoped to win the good-will of Allison, but it was said to me by one who knew him well, that he was afraid of the lad, and that he had good reason to fear, also, that as long as Allison was