I ken that Betty an' me tuik an ill-faured dame i' the bed i' the garret.' 'Cud it be his mither ?' thought Robert in bewilderment; but he recovered himself in a moment, and answered, 'Shargar may be a quean efter a', for onything 'at I ken to the contrairy; but I aye tuik him for a loon.

Faith, sic a quean as he'd mak!' And careless to resist the ludicrousness of the idea, he burst into a loud fit of laughter, which did more to reassure his grannie than any amount of protestation could have done, however she pretended to take offence at his ill-timed merriment.
Seeing his grandmother staggered, Robert gathered courage to assume the offensive.
'But, granny! hoo ever Betty, no to say you, cud hae driven oot a puir half-stervit cratur like Shargar, even supposin' he oucht to hae been in coaties, and no in troosers--and the mither o' him run awa' an' left him--it's mair nor I can unnerstan.' I misdoobt me sair but he's gane and droont himsel'.' Robert knew well enough that Shargar would not drown himself without at least bidding him good-bye; but he knew too that his grandmother could be wrought upon.

Her conscience was more tender than her feelings; and this peculiarity occasioned part of the mutual non-understanding rather than misunderstanding between her grandson and herself.

The first relation she bore to most that came near her was one of severity and rebuke; but underneath her cold outside lay a warm heart, to which conscience acted the part of a somewhat capricious stoker, now quenching its heat with the cold water of duty, now stirring it up with the poker of reproach, and ever treating it as an inferior and a slave.

But her conscience was, on the whole, a better friend to her race than her heart; and, indeed, the conscience is always a better friend than a heart whose motions are undirected by it.