ftly.

"How lovely she is!" whispered she.

A crimson flush was rising on Marian's cheeks as she slept.

"Ay, she was aye bonny," said Janet, in the same low voice, "and she
looks like an angel now."

Graeme stood gazing at her sister, and in a little Janet spoke again.

"Miss Graeme, you canna mind your aunt Marian?"

No, Graeme could not.

"Menie is growing very like her, I think. She was bonnier than your
mother even, and she kept her beauty to the very last. You ken the
family werena well pleased when your mother married, and the sisters
didna meet often till Miss Marian grew ill. They would fain have had
her away to Italy, or some far awa' place, but nothing would content her
but just her sister, her sister, and so she came home to the manse.
That was just after I came back again, after Sandy was weaned; and kind
she was to me, the bonny, gentle creature that she was.

"For a time she seemed better, and looked so blooming--except whiles,
and aye so bonny, that not one of them all could believe that she was
going to die. But one day she came in from the garden, with a bonny
moss-rose in her hand--the first of the season--and she said to your
mother she was wearied, and lay down; and in a wee while, when your
mother spoke to her again, she had just strength to say that she was
going, and that she wasna feared, and that was all. She never spoke
again."

Janet paused to wipe the tears from her face.

"She was good and bonny, and our Menie, the dear lammie, has been
growing very like her this while. She 'minds me on her now, with the
long lashes lying over her cheeks. Miss Marian's cheeks aye reddened
that way when she slept. Her hair wasna so dark as our Menie's, but it
curled of itself, like hers."

Mrs Nasmyth turned grave pitying eyes toward Graeme, as she ceased
speaking. Graeme's heart gave a sudden painful throb, and she went very
pale.

"Janet," said she, with difficulty, "there is not much the matter with
my sister, is there? It wasna that you meant about changes! Menie's
not going to die like our bonny Aunt Marian!" Her tones grew shrill and
incredulous as she went on.

"I cannot tell. I dinna ken--sometimes I'm feared to think how it may
end. But oh! Miss Graeme--my darling--"

"But it is quite impossible--it can't be, Janet," broke in Graeme.

"God knows, dear." Janet said no more. The look on Graeme's face
showed that words would not help her to comprehend the trouble tha