Janet was half troubled that her mountain, and her foundation on the rock, should have failed her; but consoled herself that they were but shadows of heavenly things and figures of the true; and that a mountain or a rock was in itself no more to be trusted than a horse or a prince or the legs of a man.

Robert plodded on in contented silence, and Gibbie was in great glee, singing, after his fashion, all the way, though now and then half-choked by the fierceness of the wind round some corner of rock, filled with rain-drops that stung like hailstones.
By and by Janet stopped and began looking about her.

This naturally seemed to her husband rather odd in the circumstances.
"What are ye efter, Janet ?" he said, shouting through the wind from a few yards off, by no means sorry to stand for a moment, although any recovering of his breath seemed almost hopeless in such a tempest.
"I want to lay my umbrell in safity," answered Janet, "-- gien I cud but perceive a shuitable spot.

Ye was richt, Robert, it's mair w'alth nor I can get the guid o'." "Hoots! fling't frae ye, than, lass," he returned.

"Is this a day to be thinkin' o' warl' 's gear ?" "What for no, Robert ?" she rejoined.