"It was
the Father o' her, nane ither, that took her. He wantit her hame; and he's
no are to dee onything ill, or at the wrang moment! Gien a meenut mair had
been ony guid til her, thinkna ye she wud hae had that meenut!"
"Willna ye come in and see her? Some fowk canna bide to luik upo the deid,
but ye're no are o' sic!"
"Na; it's trowth I daurna be nane o' sic. I s' richt wullinly gang wi' ye
to luik upo the face o' ane 'at's won throuw!"
"Come awa' than; and maybe the Lord 'ill gie ye a word o' comfort for the
mistress, for she taks on terrible aboot her. It braks my hert to see her!"
"The hert o' baith king and cobbler's i' the ae han' o' the Lord," answered
the soutar solemnly; "and gien my hert indite onything, my tongue 'ill be
ready to speyk the same."
He followed the farmer--who trode softly, as if he feared disturbing the
sleeper--upon whom even the sudden silences of the world would break no
more.
Mr. Blatherwick led the way to the parlour, and through it to a closet
behind, used as the guest-chamber.
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