"O John, John," she said, "this is a sorrowfu hoose ye hae come to; but yer faither 'll hae tell't ye a'?"
"He has, Marion; and, amongst the rest, he has told me, what has surprised me more than all, that you intend marrying old John Maitland."
Marion burst afresh into tears. "It maun he sae, brother," she said—"it maun be sae. There's nae ither way o' savin my puir faither and mother frae ruin."
"But there is, though, Marion," replied her brother. "Ye need not now give your hand where your heart is not, for any such purpose. I have the means of saving you from the necessity of making this sacrifice, and gladly shall I employ them. I will pay our father's debts, Marion, and make you once more a free woman."
We would fain describe the joy—the rapturous, the inexpressible joy—with which these delightful words filled the bosom of the poor girl on whose ravished ear they fell; but we are sure that such an attempt would only interfere with the reader's more lively and vivid conceptions, and we therefore refrain from it.
On the same day on which these events occurred, John Waterstone, having previously settled his father's debt to his landlord with those sent to look after the latter's interest at the intended sale, wrote to the house through which the money he had transmitted to his father had been sent, mentioning its non-delivery, and requesting an explanation of the circumstance.
To this letter Mr Waterstone received, two days afterwards, the following reply:—
"Sir,—We have received, with very painful feelings, though not with surprise, yours of the 10th instant. The misconduct of our junior partner, which has placed us in a similarly distressing predicament with several others as with you, has been the cause of the gross irregularity of which you demand an explanation. Your remittances, together with other moneys to a large amount, were appropriated by this person (who has lately absconded) to his own use—a practice which we have since discovered he has been long addicted to. As we, however, consider ourselves bound in honour to make good all such claims as yours—the sums you transmitted having been advised to the firm, and the responsibility accepted—we beg to inform you that the money alluded to will be paid to your order, at our counting-house, on demand. We need scarcely remark, that the circumstance above mentioned will sufficiently account for the suppression of letters of which you also complain.—We are, sir," &c.
This letter John Waterstone lost no time in laying before his father, whom it at once convinced of his son's veracity, and consequently of the injustice he had done him. But it was to his mother that this proof of her son's integrity and dutiful conduct brought the most triumphant joy.
"I was sure my John," she said, "wad never either forget or deceive us; and weel did I ken, as aften I have said, that it wad a' be satisfactorily accounted for, and that my laddie wad yet triumph owre a' his backbiters, and shame them that misdooted him."