rn that might offer him hope, and he must be all
the more careful to disguise his real feelings, lest it might prevent
her from expressing herself as frankly as she had done. When a blessing
appears to be lost its value is greatly enhanced, and all the comforts,
and privileges, and opportunities, of his present situation, that he
had made such an effort to give up, seemed to shrink into
insignificance, compared with the domestic happiness that was now
eluding his grasp.

"There was great lamentation among the bairns this morning when I said
something about Miss Jean maybe leaving us; but they took great comfort
from the recollection that they had learned to write so well that they
might send real post letters to her--not mere make-believes--and she
promised to answer them. Tam says if she goes to London she must keep
on the look-out for anything that is in his line, and indeed Miss Jean
said she would. It is a real blessing that penny post. In my young
days, to think of writing back and fore to London about anything ye
wanted to know would have been out of the question for poor folk," said
Peggy.

"You must write to me, too," said Francis, "about all the things and
all the people you see, and how you like them, and if you tire of
London or of teaching--just every mood as you feel it. I do not think
it was quite fair in you always showing me the brightest side of your
life. I do not mean to show you always mine."

"When you are disappointed because the workmen will not build the
cottages fast enough, or because the inhabitants do not keep them as
clean as your fastidious taste thinks necessary, or because the dull
Scottish brain will not readily take up the Flemish or French ideas you
want to engraft in them, you will write all your indignant or disgusted
expressions to me, rather than lose patience with the people
themselves--it is safer. I am prepared for some disappointments, but I
will wait patiently and in hope for the end."

"Did you always have this large amount of public spirit, Jane? It
struck me very forcibly the first evening you spent with me at my
house."

"I think it lay dormant for a few months before my uncle's death," said
Jane, laughing; "but it came out stronger than ever afterwards. Francis
is very grave to-day. I would not trust him with your verses, Elsie;
his criticisms will be far too severe in his present mood."

"But I will trust him just at this very time," said Elsie; "for if this
dull