"What's happened?" cried Goldie, alarmed. "Are they no a' weel at hame?"
"They heard ye were dead, Richie: and ye ken, they aye said that ye war the life o' their hearts—they were never like the same folk again; the grass o' Caerlav'rock kirkyard is green abune their heads."
Goldie was staggered by this unexpected and distressing intelligence; he had loved his parents with the fondest affection, and the hope of cheering and supporting them in their declining years had been the mainspring of his activity and industry. He covered his face with his hands, and remained for some moments silent; and at last, with a sudden outburst of grief, exclaimed—
"Gane! baith gane! and I am left alane without a leevin freend, or a roof to shelter me!"
"Yese no want either, Richie, as lang's I'm to the fore. Come, bide whar ye are; ye'll aye be welcome for the sake o' langsyne. I hae aften wished, and I ance thocht, that oor Ellen and you micht come thegither; but it wasna to be."
"And what for can it no be?" said Richie, forgetting his recent loss for the moment, and looking at Ellen. But she burst into tears, and left the room.
Goldie, surprised at her emotion, asked the reason of it; and the old man, in explanation, told him the story we have already related, and expressed his surprise at Cummin's conduct, and his wonder as to what could be his motive for such deception.
"What for did he tell us ye were dead, Richie?"
"I see it a' noo," said Richard: "when I struck him to the ground, he swore he would hae revenge—and sair revenge has he taen. My puir faither and mither! What had they dune?" And the poor fellow hung down his head, and sobbed aloud.
"But what could hae garred him leave our Ellen?"