"Na, no ance. I kenned better nor that! I never even wusst it, for that
would be nae freen's wuss: ye would never get ony farther gien ye did! I'm
nane fit for a minister's wife--nor worthy o' bein ane! I micht do no that
ill, and pass middlin weel, in a sma' clachan wi' a wee bit kirkie--but
amang gran' fowk, in a muckle toon--for that's whaur ye're sure to be! Eh
me, me! A' the last week or twa I hae seen ye driftin awa frae me, oot and
oot to the great sea, whaur never a thoucht o' Isy would come nigh ye
again;--and what for should there? Ye camna into the warl' to think aboot
me or the likes o' me, but to be a great preacher, and lea' me ahin ye,
like a sheaf o' corn ye had jist cuttit and left unbun'!"

Here came another burst of bitter weeping, followed by words whose very
articulation was a succession of sobs.

"Eh, me, me! I doobt I hae clean disgraced mysel!" she cried at last, and
ended, wiping her eyes--in vain, for the tears would keep flowing.

As to young Blatherwick, I venture to assert that nothing vulgar or low,
still less of evil intent, was passing through his mind during this
confession; and yet what but evil was his unpitying, selfish exultation in
the fact that this simple-hearted and very pretty girl should love him
unsought, and had told him so unasked? A true-hearted man would at once
have perceived and shrunk from what he was bringing upon her: James's
vanity only made him think it very natural, and more than excusable in
her; and while his ambition made him imagine himself so much her superior
as to exclude the least thought of marrying her, it did not prevent him
from yielding to the delight her confession caused him, or from persuading
her that there was no harm in loving one to whom she must always be dear,
whatever his future might bring with it. Isy left the room not a little
consoled, and with a new hope in possession of her innocent imagination;