“God bless you, Robert!  The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude man,” said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken words in his friend’s ear.  Then Captain Laird’s voice was heard, and in a moment or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern Robert’s white face in the middle of a group on deck.

“Farewell!” he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a lusty, “God speed you, Robert!  God speed the good ship and all on board of her!”

So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, dreamlike, misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion.

“Now gude-night, David.  Your uncle is waiting dinner for you.  I hae learned to love you vera much.”

“Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and respect you?”

“You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in your place at kirk.  Heaven’s gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, David; sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions.”

Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which is born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made about his return.  He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, and he had so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look which David and she understood well.

“The little folks,” said John, “have a’ gane to their beds; the day has been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep and forget a’ about it.”

David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian war and the probable storming of the Alamo.  Then John took his usual after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which made them all very happy.

When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he could see how weary and worn he had become.

“So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my feelings,” said the young man to himself.  “I should be an ingrate indeed if I did not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so anxious to hear.”

With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled back to him.  How alert and gladly he roused himself!  How cheerily he said,

“Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot.  Hech, but it is gude to see you, lad.”

“Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me.  Can you give me some advice to-night?” “I’ll be mair than glad to do it.”

“Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do.  I saw Robert off to America to-night.  Shall I follow him?”

“Davie, mind what I say.  In the vera place where a man loses what he values, there he should look to find it again.  You hae lost your good name in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again.”

“I will stay here then.  What shall I do?”