re was no disparity of years on this occasion;
while her appearance effectually guaranteed her lover against the
discomforts of rivalry. In short, she was generally admitted to be an
ideal mate for Andrew Walkingshaw.

It was just eight months after Heriot's disappearance from public life
that his son led Miss Henderson to the altar of St. Giles' Cathedral,
and after a brief honeymoon in Switzerland established her in the
stately mansion overlooking the circular garden. The fortunate couple
had the further advantage of overlooking (when the leaves were off the
trees) a substantial addition to their income in the shape of the
bride's late residence, now let on very advantageous terms to a wealthy
relative of Mr. Ramornie of Pettigrew. It seemed impossible for any step
Andrew took to avoid being profitable. When he lost an umbrella at the
club, it was always to find a better one in its place. And the most
satisfactory thing of all was the consciousness that his prosperity was
entirely the result of following the proper kind of principles.

One would fain avert one's eyes from the spectacle presented by the
luckless Ellen Berstoun, were it not that her unhappy condition makes
the contrast between lax and proper principles the more poignant. No
mate with two thousand pounds a year for her! Instead, merely a hopeless
passion for an impecunious subaltern sweltering in far-off India. That
was poor company throughout the long series of monotonous months that
were now her portion. The brown buds on the tall beeches broke into
leaf, and the dark pines were tipped with vivid green; the leaves
withered and fell, and the dead needles littered the moss. Those were
the most exciting changes that happened. Her father (a victim of gout)
cursed her and Frank and Andrew and Heriot impartially. Her mother
sighed and let her into secrets of their housekeeping and finances which
clearly showed how selfish she had been. Her sisters were kind upon the
whole, but dreadfully disposed to talk things over in a practical kind
of way.

And then at intervals arrived those letters, very long and very loving,
and very full of riding and marching under strange skies, and adventures
of which strange dark peoples and stranger beasts were the sinister
ingredients. They brightened her eyes for a little while, and then left
her sadder than before.

In the course of the second year of her bereavement, the disappointment
of her parents with her failure was