Och
hone! She did the like for him; but what cam o' that ane, I dinna
ken.'
Mrs. Falconer went into the little closet to the old bureau, and
bringing out the miniature, gave it to Robert. It was the portrait
of a young man in antiquated blue coat and white waistcoat, looking
innocent, and, it must be confessed, dull and uninteresting. It had
been painted by a travelling artist, and probably his skill did not
reach to expression. It brought to Robert's mind no faintest shadow
of recollection. It did not correspond in the smallest degree to
what seemed his vague memory, perhaps half imagination, of the tall
worn man whom he had seen that Sunday. He could not have a hope
that this would give him the slightest aid in finding him of whom it
had once been a shadowy resemblance at least.
'Is 't like him, grannie?' he asked.
As if to satisfy herself once more ere she replied, she took the
miniature, and gazed at it for some time. Then with a deep hopeless
sigh, she answered,
'Ay, it's like him; but it's no himsel'. Eh, the bonny broo, an'
the smilin' een o' him!--smilin' upon a'body, an' upo' her maist o'
a', till he took to the drink, and waur gin waur can be. It was a'
siller an' company--company 'at cudna be merry ohn drunken. Verity
their lauchter was like the cracklin' o' thorns aneath a pot. Het
watter and whusky was aye the cry efter their denner an' efter their
supper, till my puir Anerew tuik till the bare whusky i' the mornin'
to fill the ebb o' the toddy.
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