servant told him that Mr. Allardyce had not yet risen, on which Fernies said he would just walk up to him. He knocked at his bedroom door twice, but meeting with no answer he opened it and went in.

It was a superior apartment to Mrs. Ross's—a light cheerful little room, well appointed; and with a white-covered, light iron bed, in which Edmund was lying, his face turned away from the light, partially buried in the pillow. Fernies went up to him. "Eydie !"

No answer.

"Eydie! hoo are ye ?"

This time Edmund answered by a groan, and only turned away his face more.

"Ye're nae needin' to turn frae me, lad. What wye are ye lyin' yet?"

"I'm very ill, Jemmie. Ye might see it for yersel', that I'm very ill."

"I doubt ye couldna be right well to have been the wye 't ye was yestreen, but there's naething else wrang, surely?" "A'thing's wrang. I wish I were dead."

"Eh, man, ye dinna ken fat ye're sayin'."

"Ay div I. It's yersel' disna ken, Jemmie. Ye'se best keep awa'. Ye canna do me ony good. I wish I were dead !"

"That's nae right wishes ava'. In coorse I ken ye be to be sorry for what's been, but ye'll cheer up. Ye're nae the first man, I doubt, that's slippit ance and been sorry for't." "GOD help me, Jemmie, it's nae the first time."

"Nae the first time ye've been fou ?”

"No. I dinna say I've often been-as I was yestreen. But I was just deysperate yesterday and I couldna help mysel'."

"What was to mak' ye deysperate ?"

"What? what wye d'ye ask?" cried Edmund, with sudden vehemence. "If ye wasna blind a'thegither ye might see that it's just this accursed marriage-no other thing—that's pittin' me to destruction, body and soul !"

"Whisht, man! ye're surely wrang."

"If I am, it's wi' that, syne. But I'll be off wi't now, whatever! It's nae ower late yet-and I'll mak' her release me-I dinna care if they tak' it into the law courts !"

"Whisht, whisht ye !" interrupted Fernies. "Dinna speak o' sic things. It's just that that'll be the savin' o' ye, if ye wad think it, Eydie. She'll forgie ye, man, ye needna fear --she winna caist ye awa' for what's by, an she love ye truly." "But I'm nae for her!" he exclaimed violently. ye canna force me. There's no law, awat, strong enough to force a man to marry a woman that he hates. And I hate her, Jemmie-I hate her with a' my soul !"

And

Eydie, ye canna be i' yer richt rizzen, to say sic things!"

"I am. I never was more in airnest in my life. I hate her-for stickin' on to me the wye she does. It's she-and you thegither, for aye pressin' me-that's led me to all this wretchedness-to tryin' to droun it the wye that I have."

"But why suld ye mak' yerself meeserable ?" said Fernytofts. "I dinna see the ca'se, mysel'."

"Look here, Jemmie. I'll tell ye frae the very commencement. I kent I'd made the awfullest mistake whenever I'd spok' till her. I dinna think, upon my word, that I was a'thegither right yon day. I was aye so down, ye mind, yon time and folks aye tellt me I'd need to keep mysel' up -and I took others' coonsel maybe whan I'd been better keepin' to my ain. I tellt ye ony wye, I'd been to have found my mistake-but ye was aye for me to go on wi't, and syne-" he sighed deeply and paused for a few minutes. Then he went on, seeming to work himself up to greater vehemence as he did so. "And I've tried, every wyeI've been tryin' ever since to get her to see it. I tried to pick a quarrel wi' her. I said things that would have made plenty o' girls angry and jealous and what no. That was o' nae use. And syne I tellt her one day, fair and open, what way it was wi' me-and offered to set her free. No! she's

so confoundedly detairmined, so dead set upon having me at any price, that whatever I would say she just twists it the wrong way and makes it out to be a reason she's to stick to me closer." And the sentence was ended with something so like an imprecation that Fernies spoke almost roughly:

Now, now! I'm for nae bannin'! Ye can say fat ye've got to say 's well wantin' bad words !"

1 Reason.

"No-I'll not do it if I can help. But no one on airth kens-I could not tell ye-what wretchedness it's been to me. I haven't had an hour of right peace o' mind since this has been made up. Ye winna wonder I was for tryin' the only thing that kept me goin' at a'-whenever I had to face them, it was just the one only thing carried me through and made me fancy just for a' the time that I was some happy-kind. And what wye I was so bad yesterday—I'd been feeling real ill and down every way for some days past, and syne this appointment was to keep it put me just mad to think I would have to drag her about the place the whole day and meetin' a'body. So I was to fortify mysel❜ some first and had gone beyond my reckoning," he broke off with a bitter laugh. "And it was sma' wonder yon fiery stuff they sell went to my head-I declare to you I had tasted nothing solid since dinner-time the day before. Nor did I yesterday, 's far's I mind.”

"Fat wye was that ?"

"What wye! just that I'm wrong a'thegither.

I canna

eat, or sleep either. I dinna know if it's the dregs o' the fever, or some other thing, or just a' this state of misery and wretchedness workin' wi' me. I'm real ill whatever. I've told Muir. He's given me a tonic mixture, and so on -but one can't live on their confounded mixtures. Noit's just the other thing that's kept me goin' sin' ever I was oot at home wi' you."

Fernies made a little sound expressive of sorrowful comprehension.

"I've managed aye to keep right upon Sundays," poor Edmund added. "Mr. Farquhar disna know. Not likely I'd be at the head of his choir an he did!"

"And fat are ye to dee wi' yersel' i' the meantime, peer lad ?" said Fernies. "Ye'd niver mair need o' a good wife to nottice ye, as far's I see. And why ye should put yerself awa' fra ene that's willin' to tak' ye, and so shuitable for ye-"

"Now, ye're nae needin' to commence wi' that, Jemmie," interrupted Edmund, fiercely. "Look, see, here!" he drew out a small folded paper, which he had been holding all the time closely clasped in his hot hand. With fingers that trembled painfully, he unfolded it, showing his brother a

single curl of golden hair-the curl-and the photograph behind it. "D'ye see that? That's all I've got of my ain lassie-my ain dear, dear lassie; an' if I'm never to have mair, I'll not put another in her place, or take another to my heart! No, this lies neist my heart, sleeping or wakin', an' I've sworn over and over this night I'll not put it away."

"Well, well," said Fernies, "gin ye're detairmined, I needna seek to conter ye."

"No. Awat ye needna. If it's the LORD'S Will, Jemmie, I can live single, contented and respectable. But force me to marry, gin it were to a saint, and I'll lose mysel' a'thegither."

"H'm-h'm. Well-and ye've got to settle it now wi' the lassie, I suppose ?"

"Of course, I'll write her as soon's I can. I dinna think I could guide a pen eynow. I'm awfully weak, Jemmie!"

"Ay. Ye've the appearance to be gey weak. Ye're best keepin' yer bed i' the mean time, and I'll gar them mak' some breakfast to ye."

Just then came a sharp rap at the door, and the lodginghouse maid opened it a crack, to say,

"That's Mr. Maitland callin'-and wishes to know if he can see Mr. Allardyce."

"Tell him I'll see him in a few minutes," called out Edmund, sitting up in bed. "Ask him to sit down in the parlour." And as the servant shut the door and retreated, he went on, speaking fast and eagerly; "Isn't it well that he's come now? We'll have it over at once. I'll be ready in two minutes."

He began dressing in tremulous haste, but when he tried to stand he tottered from sheer weakness, so that his brother had to catch hold of him to save him from falling.

"I'll need to get ye something eynow, I doubt," he said. "Far will I get it ?"

"It's just in the press; ay, I must have it this time, Jemmie," and Fernies opened the little wall-press to which he motioned him, and found the whiskey bottle and glass. There was just about a glassful remaining, which Fernies poured out and gave him, saying, "Ye're sore needing something to strengthen ye, peer fella, but once ye're richt weel

again ye'll be yer father's ain son, and hold fra' the drink, winna ye ?"

Edmund made no answer, but drained the glass and put it down silently: then stood up to go.

"I must see him my lone, ye understand, Jemmie; but ye'll stop here, winna ye, till I'm through?”

"Eh ay. I winna leave ye just yet. Are ye able to go

ben to him ?"

And with tender caution he supported his brother's uncertain footsteps to the door of the parlour, where he left him to go in and confront Mr. Maitland alone.

CHAPTER XI.

SET FREE.

EDMUND and Mr. Maitland remained closeted for a good

half-hour. At the end of which time the former put his head out at the room door and called, "Will ye step in here, Jemmie ?"

Fernies obeyed. Mr. Maitland was looking a little flushed, a little dignified, a little stiff. Edmund was very

pale and haggard and subdued, but yet more at ease apparently than he had been before.

“Mr. Maitland has been kind enough to receive mymy explanation favourably," Edmund said, "and I wish that you should hear what he thinks best that I should do," and then he looked at Mr. Maitland, who cleared his throat and began, delivering himself somewhat as if he were in the pulpit:

"Your brother has informed me, Mr. Allardyce, that he finds himself unable, for reasons which he has explained to me, to carry out honourably his contract of marriage with my sister. Under the circumstances it is, in my opinion, very deeply to be regretted that such an engagement was ever entered upon. I conceive, however, that as matters now stand it is fittest that he should write a full explanation and apology to my sister, and place the matter in her