Through the governor of the jail Andrew obtained permission to stand near the prisoner at the trial. The counsel for the prosecution¹ did all he could, and the counsel for the defense² not much—at least Dawtie's friends thought so—and the judge summed up with the greatest impartiality³. Dawtie's simplicity⁴ and calmness, her confidence devoid⁵ of self-assertion, had its influence on the jury, and they gave the uncomfortable verdict of “Not Proven,” so that Dawtie was discharged.

 

Alexa had a carriage ready to take her home. As Dawtie went to it she whispered to her husband:

 

“Ye hae to tak me wantin' a character, Andrew.”

 

“Jesus went home without a character, and was well received,” said Andrew, with a smile. “You'll be over to-night to see the old folk?”

 

“Yes, Andrew; I'm sure the mistress will let me.”

 

“Don't say a word to her of our marriage, except she has heard, and mentions it. I want to tell her myself. You will find me at the croft when you come, and I will go back with you.”

 

In the evening Dawtie came, and brought the message that her mistress would like to see him.

 

When he entered the room Alexa rose to meet him. He stopped short.

 

“I thank you, ma'am,” he said, “for your great kindness to Dawtie. We were married in the prison. She is my wife now.”

 

“Married! Your wife?” echoed Alexa, flushing, and drawing back a step.

 

“I had loved her long, ma'am; and when trouble came her the time came for me to stand by her side.”

 

“You had not spoken to her then—till—”

 

“Not till last night. I said before the governor of the prison and Mrs. Innes that we were husband and wife. If you please, ma'am, we shall have the proper ceremony as soon as possible.”

 

“I wish I had known,” said Alexa—almost to herself, with a troubled smile.

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