In a short time after, her mother, who was against Maxwell's suit, and blamed her daughter for having anything to do with him, entered the house. Alice dared not make her mother her confidant; she was reduced to the necessity of not only wrestling single-handed with her difficulty, but of concealing it from her parent. Bed-time came, and she retired to rest, but slept none. At daybreak she started, dressed herself, and, without saying one word to her mother, proceeded to Dumfries to visit Lewis Threshum. On arriving at his house, she found he was in the prison along with Maxwell, and waited till he came home. She informed him truly of everything that had taken place, and saw, from the effects of her communication, that she was condemning her lover. Starting up in great agitation, he cried—
"Mike's life is in your hands, Alice: will you hang or save him?"
"Save him if I can," replied the girl.
"Then you must tell the shirra," said Lewie, "everything ye've tauld me, but the last words uttered by the secret visiter. These you maun keep in your bosom, and hauld like grim death, otherwise Mike's a dead man."
"I will speak the truth," said Alice, calmly.
"Didna you love Mike?" said the writer, staring at her.
"Yes, but I loved also, and still love, truth and honesty."
"Idiot cratur!" ejaculated Lewie, stamping with his feet. "Mike Maxwell is a dead man—Mike Maxwell is a dead man!" (Pausing and looking at her.) "Will you hide yourself then?"
"No," replied she; "I do not love secresy."
"Hang him then!" cried the infuriated man; "hang him, and then drown yourself, like the rest o' your inconsistent sex."