When Mrs. Sinclair went home just as midnight was striking she found Robert sitting by the fire wondering at her absence.  He had just returned from a meeting at a neighboring village, and finding his brothers and sisters all in bed and his mother not in the house with his tea ready for him as usual, he wondered what was the matter.

“I was owre at Matthew’s,” she replied in answer to the question she knew he was going to ask.

“Is he waur the nicht?” he asked quickly.

“Weel, it’s no’ him, although he’s gey upset too; but Mysie has cam’ hame the nicht, an’ puir lassie she is in an awfu’ state,” and she was quick to note the soft blanching of his cheek as she spoke.

“Mysie hame,” he echoed with quick interest.

“Ay, puir lassie; but I doot if I’m no’ cheated that Mysie’ll no’ be lang anywhere.  The doctor says she’s to be keepit quate; for she’s gey low.  In fact he felt me at the door that he dinna think she could last a week.”

Robert sat a long time looking into the fire, while his mother got ready his tea, and described to him all that she knew of Mysie’s return and of her sad condition.

“You’d hardly ken her,” she went on.  “She’s that thin and white and faur gane lookin’, forby havin’ a boast that wad fricht you.  Puir lassie, I was vexed for her an’ Matthew too is gey upset aboot it.  Dae you ken, Rob, I believe they mun be gey hard gruppit.  Wi’ Matthew being off work, and John deein’ an’ a’ the ither troubles they had this while, I think they canna be ower weel off.”

“Ay,” he said, “they canna be ower weel off; for they hae had a lot to dae this while.  You micht look to them, mither.  We are no sae ill off noo, an’ we can afford tae help them.”

“Weel, Rob, I’ve been aye givin’ them a bit hand, buying beef for soup an’ that’ an’ daein’ a’ I could.  But I’m awfu’ puttin’ aboot ower puir Mysie.  She’s gey faur gane, an’ wherever she has been she’s been haein a bad time of it.”

“I saw her at Edinburgh,” he said quietly, as she paused to pour out the tea.

“In Edinburgh?”

“Ay,” he replied.  “Last month when I was at the conference,” and Robert told his mother the whole story of his meeting with Mysie and of her disappearance and all that had happened to her from the time she had gone away.

“But you never telt yin o’ us, Rob,” she said after he had come to the end of the story.

“No, I never telt ony o’ you; for Mysie made me promise no’ to tell; an’ forby she wadna’ gi’e me her address.  But I was that upset that day that I couldn’t collect mysel’ an’ I minded o’ a lot o’ things I should hae done an’ said after I left her.  It was terrible,” and he relapsed into silence again, as he went on with his supper.

His mother saw all the pain in his heart that night, though neither spoke much of the state of his feelings for Mysie; but it was evident to her who saw all the cross currents of fate, perhaps more clearly than Robert knew.