whispering it first softly to
herself; then, bending down so that her breath stirred the snow-white
hair, she repeated it aloud, starting involuntarily as the rude walls
echoed back the name "Grandmother!"

"Grandmother!" Through the senses locked in sleep it penetrated, and
the dim eyes, once so fiery and black, grew large and bright again as
Hagar Warren woke.

Was it a delusion, that beauteous form which met her view, that soft
hand on her brow, or was it Maggie Miller?

"Grandmother," the low voice said again, "I am Maggie--Hester's child.
Can you see me? Do you know that I am here?"

Yes, through the films of age, through the films of coming death, and
through the gathering darkness, old Hagar saw and knew, and with a
scream of joy her shrunken arms wound themselves convulsively around
the maiden's neck, drawing her nearer, and nearer still, until the
shriveled lips touched the cheek of her who did not turn away, but
returned that kiss of love.

"Say it again, say that word once more," and the arms closed tighter
round the form of Margaret, who breathed it yet again, while the
childish woman sobbed aloud, "It is sweeter than the angels' song to
hear you call me so."

She did not ask her when she came--she did not ask her where she had
been; but Maggie told her all, sitting by her side with the poor hands
clasped in her own; then, as the twilight shadows deepened in the
room, she struck a light, and coming nearer to Hagar, said, "Am I much
like my mother?"

"Yes, yes, only more winsome," was the answer, and the half-blind eyes
looked proudly at the beautiful girl bending over the humble pillow.

"Do you know that?" Maggie asked, holding to view the ambrotype of
Hester Hamilton.

For an instant Hagar wavered, then hugging the picture to her bosom,
she laughed and cried together, whispering as she did so, "My little
girl, my Hester, my baby that I used to sing to sleep in our home away
over the sea."

Hagar's mind was wandering amid the scenes of bygone years, but it
soon came back again to the present time, and she asked of Margaret
whence that picture came. In a few words Maggie told her, and then for
a time there was silence, which was broken at last by Hagar's voice,
weaker now than when she spoke before.

"Maggie," she said, "what of this Arthur Carrollton? Will he make you
his bride?"

"He has so promised," answered Maggie; and Hagar continued: "He will
take you to England, and you will be a lad