When we reached West Craigs Inn, the second stage from Edinburgh, the rain had ceased; and the young gentleman, politely returning me my umbrella, began to relieve the widow of his now dripping cloak, which he shook over the side of the coach, and afterwards hung on the rail to dry. Then turning to the widow, he inquired if she would take any refreshment; and upon her answering in the negative, he proceeded to enter into conversation with her, as follows:—
'Do you travel far on this road, ma'am?'
'About sixteen miles farther, sir. I leave the coach six miles on the other side of Airdrie.'
'Do your friends dwell thereabouts?'
'Yes, sir, they do. Indeed, I am on the way home to my father's house.'
'In affliction, I fear?'
'Yes, sir,' said the poor young woman, raising her handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbing audibly; 'I am returning to him a disconsolate widow, after a short absence of two years.'
'Is your father in good circumstances?'
'He will never suffer me or my baby to want, sir, while he has strength to labour for us; but he is himself in poverty, a day-labourer on the estate of the Earl of Hyndford.'
At the mention of that nobleman's name, the young gentleman coloured a little, but it was evident that his emotion was not of an unpleasant nature. 'What is your father's name?' said he.