'Dinna ye ken, man, that amo' them 'at kent the Lord best whan he cam frae haiven to luik efter his ain--to seek and to save, ye ken--amo' them 'at cam roon aboot him to hearken till 'im, was lasses 'at had gane the wrang gait a'thegither,--no like your bonnie Jessie 'at fell but ance.Man, ye're jist like Simon the Pharisee, 'at was sae scunnert at oor Lord 'cause he loot the wuman 'at was a sinner tak her wull o' 's feet--the feet 'at they war gaein' to tak their wull o' efter anither fashion afore lang.He wad hae shawn her the door--Simon wad--like you, John; but the Lord tuik her pairt.An' lat me tell you, John--an' I winna beg yer pardon for sayin' 't, for it's God's trowth--lat me tell you, 'at gin ye gang on that gait ye'll be sidin' wi' the Pharisee, an' no wi' oor Lord.
Ye may lippen to yer wife, ay, an' to Jessie hersel', that kens better nor eyther o' ye, no to mak little o' virginity.Faith! they think mair o' 't than ye do, I'm thinkin', efter a'; only it's no a thing to say muckle aboot.An' it's no to stan' for a'thing, efter a'.'
Silence followed.John sat down again, and buried his face in his hands.At length he murmured from between them,'The lassie's weel?'
'Ay,' answered Robert; and silence followed again.
'What wad ye hae me do?' asked John, lifting his head a little.
'I wad hae ye sen' a kin' word till her.The lassie's hert's jist longin' efter ye.That's a'.And that's no ower muckle.'
''Deed no,' assented the mother.
John said nothing.But when his visitor rose he bade him a warm good-night.
When Robert returned to Aberdeen he was the bearer of such a message as made poor Jessie glad at heart.This was his first experience of the sort.
When he left the cottage, he did not return to the house, but threaded the little forest of pines, climbing the hill till he came out on its bare crown, where nothing grew but heather and blaeberries.There he threw himself down, and gazed into the heavens.The sun was below the horizon; all the dazzle was gone out of the gold, and the roses were fast fading; the downy blue of the sky was trembling into stars over his head; the brown dusk was gathering in the air; and a wind full of gentleness and peace came to him from the west.He let his thoughts go where they would, and they went up into the abyss over his head.
'Lord, come to me,' he cried in his heart, 'for I cannot go to thee.
If I were to go up and up through that awful space for ages and ages, I should never find thee.Yet there thou art.The tenderness of thy infinitude looks upon me from those heavens.Thou art in them and in me.Because thou thinkest, I think.I am thine--all thine.I abandon myself to thee.Fill me with thyself.When I am full of thee, my griefs themselves will grow golden in thy sunlight.
Thou holdest them and their cause, and wilt find some nobler atonement between them than vile forgetfulness and the death of love.Lord, let me help those that are wretched because they do not know thee.Let me tell them that thou, the Life, must needs suffer for and with them, that they may be partakers of thy ineffable peace.My life is hid in thine: take me in thy hand as Gideon bore the pitcher to the battle.Let me be broken if need be, that thy light may shine upon the lies which men tell them in thy name, and which eat away their hearts.'
