nd the entire disinheriting of Gilbert; it
was from a kind of superstitious dread attaching to the name that no
Ashol for a long term of years had ever been baptized Laurence.

Father Vansome said the required Mass next morning, and his mother drove
over to assist at it. Her prayers and mine were thus united with the
supreme Sacrifice on behalf of the soul so greatly in need.

The apparition has never been seen again, though many a Catholic guest
has visited Ardmuir House. More wonderful still--the curse seems to have
been averted by the laying of the ghost; for young Gilbert Ashol has so
greatly improved in health and strength that his doctors predict for him
a probably long and useful life.

The family has indeed been thoroughly impressed by the strange
circumstances just related. In the light of their increasing interest in
all things Catholic, Val is beginning to entertain hopes of the ultimate
return of the Ashols to the Faith their fathers abandoned more than three
hundred years ago.

IX

SPRING'S RETURN

"Now Ariel goes a-singing, by the olden
Dark yews, where flitter-mice were wont to cling.
All the world is turning golden, turning golden
In the spring."
(_Nora Hopper--"April"_)

"Guess the latest news, Ted," said my brother, coming in from parochial
visits.

I shook my head.

"I'm no hand at riddles."

"Well, there's a marriage to come off in our parish before long, if
matters can be satisfactorily arranged."

"A marriage!" That roused me; it would be the first function of the
kind I had seen in Ardmuirland. For our lads usually fetched partners
from elsewhere, and maidens being accustomed to migrate to service in
the south, found mates there--even as the swallows.

"I thought that would fetch you!" cried Val triumphant. "And now give
a guess."

But I racked my brains to no purpose.

"It's not Widow Lamont, and it's not Robina----"

"Why not?" he asked. But I saw he was quizzing.

"It's a widow," he said. "I'll tell you that much."

Even then I was nonplussed.

"Ted, you've no imagination! Is Christian Logan too old?"

"Christian Logan! Of course not! Who's the happy man?"

"He's not altogether happy yet," returned Val. "There are obstacles in
the way at present. Do you know the Camerons of Redbank Farm at all?"

"Camerons of Redbank! Why, they're Protestants!"

"Tell me something I don't know already," he retorted.

"I can say ve