heaven but what we confessed?  How philosophical all this in a Scouring Burn weaver in hysterics!  Yet there are greater men than Aminadab who could not explain such things.  Ah, well; to the honour of poor Aminadab, it was for once not pork he sought at Logie House.  Next night at ten he was in the parlour; but how did he get there, and Brahma in these very woods?  Aminadab very probably could not have told himself; yet there he was.

“Come again so soon, Aminadab?”

“Ay,” replied he. “‘Though a man may fall, he may be raised up again.’  I stumbled in front of my friend, but she will not kick me; yea, she will lift me up.”

“Be silent,” she said.  “You were seen last night near the Cradle, where no one dare approach.  None of the servants go there save me; and even Ady, if she goes, it is by stealth.  Ah, you know something now; but there’s one thing you don’t know, and that is, that rich men can pay watchers to discover those who search into their iniquities.”

“Whatever I know,” said Aminadab, “I am ignorant of this:  why that dungeon, containing a human being, can keep its place at the distance of a mile from a town with 30,000 inhabitants.”

“But they don’t know it, lad.  Be you quiet, and pick that leg of a chicken; that is better than the knowledge that kills.  There is not one of the magistrates would dare to touch a hair on Mr. Fletcher’s head, no, for all that lies in the power of Brahma.”

“But why do you keep the secret?  ’The steps of a good woman are ordered by the Lord;’ but does He order you to step to the Cradle?”

“I do it for good,” said she, “because I can soften griefs that are unbearable; and cooks have something in their power.  But if I were to say a word to Fletcher, I would be turned away, and another might treat the prisoner worse.”

“But why would not the powers interfere?”

“Because bailies love a dinner and fine wines; and it is easier to wink than think, and easier to think than get themselves out of trouble by acting on their thoughts.  Will that satisfy you?  It is a strange business; but the world’s a strange place, and strange men and women live therein.  Meat and drink and honour are better than wisdom.  Look to your plate, Aminadab.  Oh!  I wish I knew less; but I saw what was coming when I saw George Cameron begin to build what he said was to be like a cradle.  Did I not recollect what Kalee told me about the blood-bond?  Did we not all witness the growing gloom gathering day by day over his face?  Then separate beds.  Then no more companionship, out or in.  The gloom for ever, and the tears of Kalee for ever and ever, and the terror and anguish of poor soul Aditi!  Ah! yes; but he never struck her, never upbraided her; and at length she shrunk from him as if from a serpent.  And this he could not bear:  it made his dun-yellow black, Aminadab!  Then, when the Cradle was finished, and a truckle and a table and a chair were put in,