They're gray eneuch, and they're near eneuch to the grave, but gin ye turn oot weel, I'll maybe haud up my heid a bit yet.
But O Anerew! my son! my son! Would God I had died for thee!' And the words of her brother in grief, the king of Israel, opened the floodgates of her heart, and she wept.

Robert left her weeping, and closed the door quietly as if his dead father had been lying in the room.
He took his way up to his own garret, closed that door too, and sat down upon the floor, with his back against the empty bedstead.
There were no more castles to build now.

It was all very well to say that he would not believe the news and would pray for his father, but he did believe them--enough at least to spoil the praying.

His favourite employment, seated there, had hitherto been to imagine how he would grow a great man, and set out to seek his father, and find him, and stand by him, and be his son and servant.

Oh! to have the man stroke his head and pat his cheek, and love him! One moment he imagined himself his indignant defender, the next he would be climbing on his knee, as if he were still a little child, and laying his head on his shoulder.