“Dus’ta mind when Angus coomt first to these parts?” he said. “I do reet weel.  I can a’ but fancy I see him now at the manor’al court at Deer Garth Bottom.  What a man he was, to be sure!  Ralph’s nobbut a bit boy to what his father was then.  Folks say father and son are as like as peas, but nowt of the sort.  Ye could nivver hev matched Angus in yon days for limb and wind.  Na, nor sin’ nowther.  And there was yan o’ the lasses frae Castenand had set een on Angus, but she nivver let wit.  As bonny a lass as there was in the country side, she was.  They say beauty withoot bounty’s but bauch, but she was good a’ roond.  She was greetly thought on.  Dus’ta mind I was amang the lads that went ahint her—­I was, mysel’.  But she wad hev nowt wi’ me; she trysted wid Angus; so I went back home and broke the click reel of my new loom straight away.  And it’s parlish odd I’ve not lived marraless iver sin’.”

This reminiscence of his early and all but only love adventure seemed to touch a sensitive place in the old man’s nature, and he pulled for a time more vigorously at his pipe.

Mrs. Ray Still sat gazing into the fire, hardly heeding the old weaver’s garrulity, and letting him chatter on as he pleased.  Occasionally she would look anxiously over her shoulder to ask Rotha if Ralph had got back, and on receiving answer that he had not yet been seen she would resume her position, and, with an absent look in her eyes, gaze back into the fire.  When a dog’s bark would be heard in the distance above the sound of the wind, she would break into consciousness afresh, and bid Rotha prepare the supper.  But still Ralph did not come.  Where could he be?

It was growing late when Matthew got up to go.  He had tried his best to comfort his old neighbor in her sorrow.  He had used up all his saws and proverbs that were in the remotest degree appropriate to the occasion, and he had thrown in a few that were not remarkable for appositeness or compatibility.  All alike had passed by unheeded.  The dame had taken the good will for the good deed, and had not looked the gift-horses too closely in the mouth.

“Good night, Mattha Branthet,” she said, in answer to his good by; “good night, and God bless thee.”

Matthew had opened the door, and was looking out preparatory to his final leavetaking.

“The sky’s over-kessen to-neet,” he said.  “There’s na moon yit, and t’wind’s high as iver.  Good neet, Mary; it’s like ye’ll be a’ thrang eneuf to-morrow wi’ the feast for the berryin’, and it’s like eneuf ma mistress and laal Liza will be ower at the windin’.”

The dame sighed audibly.

“And keep up a blithe heart, Mary.  Remember, he that has gude crops may thole some thistles.”

When the door had closed behind the weaver, Willy came back to the kitchen from his little room.

“Ralph not home yet?” he said, addressing Rotha.

“Not yet,” the girl answered, trying vainly to conceal some uneasiness.