'Edinburgh Castle;' and, oh, mamma! there is grand old
'Stirling,' the place where I was born! Our good fairy might have known
the important fact; for, lo! she has adorned the mantelpiece with two
great bunches of heather, in honour of me, I suppose. How pleasant!"

"Yes. But I am weary, love. I wish I were in bed, and at rest."

This was soon accomplished; and Olive sat down by her mother's side, as
she often did, waiting until Mrs. Rothesay fell asleep.

She sat, looking about her mechanically, as one does when taking
possession of a strange room. Curiously her eye marked every quaint
angle in the furniture, which would in time become so familiar. Then she
thought, as one of dreamy mood is apt to do under such circumstances, of
how many times she should lay her head down on the pillow in this same
room, and when, and how would be the _last time_. For to all things on
earth must come a last time.

But, waking herself out of such pondering, she turned to look at her
mother. The delicate placid face lay in the stillness of deep sleep--a
stillness that sometimes startles one, from its resemblance to another
and more solemn repose. While she looked, a pain entered the daughter's
heart. To chase it thence, she stooped and softly kissed the face which
to her was, and ever had been, the most beautiful in the world; and
then, following the train of her former musings, came the thought that
one day--it might be far distant, but still, in all human probability,
it must come--she would kiss her mother's brow for the _last time_.

A moment's shiver, a faint prayer, and the thought passed. But long
afterwards she remembered it, and marvelled that it should have first
come to her then and there.

The morning that rose at Farnwood Dell--so the little house was
called--was one of the brightest that ever shone from September skies.
Olive felt cheerful as the day; and as for Christal, she was perpetually
running in and out, making the wonderful discoveries of a young damsel
who had never in all her life seen the real country. She longed for a
ramble, and would not let Olive rest until the exploit was determined
on. It was to be a long walk, the appointed goal being a beacon that
could be seen for miles, a church on the top of a hill.

Olive quite longed to go thither, because it had been the first sight
at Farnwood on which her eyes had rested. Looking out from her
chamber-window, at the early morning, she had seen it gleaming gol