Wait a bit! Keep up your courage, Ralph. Ye’ve done a braw thing, an’ ye’re through the worst o’ it; but ye’ll find a hard path yet, an’ ye’ll need a stout hert. Ralph, he had taken both the boy’s hands into his again, and was looking tenderly into his haggard face and bloodshot eyes; the traces of the struggle were so very plain– Ralph, I fear I’d cry ower ye a bit an we had the time, ye’ve sufferit so. An’ it’s gude for ye, I’m thinkin’, that ye mus’ go quick. I’d make ye weak, an’ ye need to be strang. I canna fear for ye, laddie; ye ken the right an’ ye’ll do it. Good-by till ye; it’ll not be lang till I s'all go to ye; good-by!