her lips, “you maunna cry,—it cannt be otherwise. It were cruel to you, as weel as mysell to stay where I now am. I must—must leave you Jeanie, and mind this, if I get on in the world you will see me soon, if not try to forget what has passed; and, my dear, Jeanie, mind that I leave you a free creature, as free in promise as God’s daylight,—as free as before I saw ye:—and, when I am far away oure the sea, and forgotten, refuse not a guid offer for the sake of the foolish, silly thoughtless memory o’ what has passed betwixt us. So may be, when I come hame—if ever it be my fortune to come hame, a crazy weather-beaten, broken down, auld man, I may see ye surrounded wi’ yere bonny bairns, and yere proud goodman——No, hang me, I would be sooner shot thro’ the head, like a dog, than see the man that daured, in my hearing, to ca’ Jeanie Grahame his wife!!”
When the auld miser fand that his son had taen his will in his ain hands, and had decampit, he had a grievous contention wi’ the bitterness and blackness of his ain speerit, and he vowed that, only son as he was of his, he wad cut him wi’ a shilling; come what liket of the guids, gear, and chattles, he lamentit he could na carry to the grave with him. Naething wad make him relax in his purpose, his determination was fixed as the whunstane rock; and the friends that were sae forward as to presume offering a word o’ advice, fand that they were only rivetting the nail
