to Mr. Deans's discernment, that Butler, in their conference, had made a
greater display of his learning than the occasion called for, or than was likely
to be acceptable to the old man, who, accustomed to consider himself as a person
preeminently entitled to dictate upon theological subjects of controversy, felt
rather humbled and mortified when learned authorities were placed in array
against him. In fact, Butler had not escaped the tinge of pedantry which
naturally flowed from his education, and was apt, on many occasions, to make
parade of his knowledge, when there was no need of such vanity.
    Jeanie Deans, however, found no fault with this display of learning, but, on
the contrary, admired it; perhaps on the same score that her sex are said to
admire men of courage, on account of their own deficiency in that qualification.
The circumstances of their families threw the young people constantly together;
their old intimacy was renewed, though upon a footing better adapted to their
age; and it became at length understood betwixt them, that their union should be
deferred no longer than until Butler should obtain some steady means of support,
however humble. This, however, was not a matter speedily to be accomplished.
Plan after plan was formed, and plan after plan failed. The good-humoured cheek
of Jeanie lost the first flush of juvenile freshness; Reuben's brow assumed the
gravity of manhood, yet the means of obtaining a settlement seemed remote as
ever. Fortunately for the lovers, their passion was of no ardent or enthusiastic
cast; and a sense of duty on both sides induced them to bear, with patient
fortitude, the protracted interval which divided them from each other.
    In the meanwhile, time did not roll on without effecting his usual changes.
The widow of Stephen Butler, so long the prop of the family of Beersheba, was
gathered to her fathers; and Rebecca, the careful spouse of our friend Davie
Deans, was also summoned from her plans of matrimonial and domestic economy. The
morning after her death, Reuben Butler went to offer his mite of consolation to
his old friend and benefactor. He witnessed, on this occasion, a remarkable
struggle betwixt the force of natural affection and the religious stoicism which
the sufferer thought it was incumbent upon him to maintain under each earthly
dispensation, whether of weal or woe.
    On his arrival at the cottage, Jeanie, with her eyes overflowing with tears,
pointed to the little orchard, »in which,« she whispered with broken accents,
»my poor father has been since his misfortune.« Somewhat alarmed