their boys.

"I hope they will be in time. It would be quite too bad if they were to
lose the wedding by only a day or two. And yet we could hardly blame
Charlie were he to refuse to wait after Will comes. Oh, if he were only
safe here! I should like a few quiet days with Will before the house is
full. My boy!--who is really more mine than any of the others--all that
I have, for my very own, now that Rosie is going from me. How happy we
shall be when all the bustle and confusion are over! And as to my going
home with Norman and Hilda--that must be decided later, as Will shall
make his plans. My boy!--how can I ever wait for his coming?"

It was growing dark as she drew near the house. Although the lights
were not yet in the drawing-room, she knew by the sound of voices coming
through the open window that Arthur and Fanny were not alone.

"I hope I am not cross to-night, but I really don't feel as though I
could make myself agreeable to visitors for another hour or two. I wish
Sarah may let me quietly in; and I will go up-stairs at once. I wonder
who they are!"

Sarah's face was illuminated.

"You have come at last, Miss Elliott," said she.

"Yes; was I expected sooner? Who is here? Is it you, Charlie? _You_
are expected elsewhere."

It was not Charlie, however. A voice not unlike his spoke in answer,
and said,--

"Graeme, I have brought your brother home to you;" and her hand was
clasped in that of Allan Ruthven.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

The pleasant autumn days had come round again, and Mr and Mrs Snow
were sitting, as they often sat now, alone in the south room together.
Mr Snow was hale and strong still, but he was growing old, and needed
to rest, and partly because the affairs of the farm were safe in the
hands of his "son," as he never failed to designate Sandy, and partly
because those affairs were less to him than they used to be, he was able
to enjoy the rest he took.

For that was happening to him which does not always happen, even to good
people, as they grow old; his hold was loosening from the things which
for more than half a lifetime he had sought so eagerly and held so
firmly. With his eyes fixed on "the things which are before," other
things were falling behind and out of sight, and from the leisure thus
falling to him in these days, came the quiet hours in the south room so
pleasant to them both.

But the deacon's face did not wear its usual placid look on this
particul