o he is," said Graeme.

"I know it, Graeme; and he says he is not good enough for me." And Rose
laid down her cheek upon her sister's lap, with a little sob. "Ah! if
he only knew, I am afraid--"

"Dear, it is the humility of true love, as you said about Harry. You
love one another, and you need not be afraid."

They were silent for a long time after that, and then Rose said,
flushing a little,--

"And, Graeme, dear, Charlie says--but I promised not to tell--"

"Well, you must not, then," said Graeme, smiling, with just a little
throb of pain at her heart, as it came home to her that now, Rose, and
her hopes and fears, and little secrets belonged more to another than to
her.

"Not that it is a secret, Graeme," said her sister, eagerly.

"It is something that Charlie has very much at heart, but I am not so
sure myself. But it is nothing that can be spoken about yet. Graeme,
Charlie thinks there is nobody in the world quite so good as you."

Graeme laughed.

"Except you, Rosie."

"I am not good, Graeme, but very foolish and naughty, often, as you
know. But I will try and be good, now, indeed I will."

"My darling," murmured Graeme, "I am so glad for you--so glad and
thankful. We ought to be good. God has been very good to us all."

Of course all this was not permitted to shorten the visit of the sisters
to their old friend. Mr Millar went away rather reluctantly, alone,
but the Winter had quite set in before they went home. Mrs Snow was
well by that time, as well as she ever expected to be in this world, and
she bade them farewell with a good hope that she might see them again.

"But, whether or not," said she, cheerfully, "I shall ay be glad and
thankful for the quiet time we have had together. There are few who can
say of those they love, that they wish nothing changed in their life or
their lot; but I do say that of all your father's bairns. No' but that
there may be some crook in the lot of one or other of you, that I canna
see, and maybe some that I can see; but when the face is set in the
right airt [direction] all winds waft onward, and that, I trust, is true
of you all. And, Rosie, my dear, it takes a steady hand to carry a full
cup, as I have told you, many a time; and mind, my bairn, `Except the
Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it,' and, `the
foundation of God standeth sure.' Miss Graeme, my dear, `They that wait
on the Lord shall renew their strength,' as you have