t,
sprang from the natural forgetfulness of old age, which, even when least
selfish, seems unconsciously to narrow its interest to the small circle
of its own daily life. But perhaps the old lady was more quick-sighted
than Olive dreamed; for such a true and tried heart could hardly be
quite frozen, even with the apathy of eighty years.

A few days before Olive's journey Mrs. Flora called her into her own
room.

"I have something to say to ye, lassie. Ye'll listen to the auld wife?"

"Aunt Flora!" said Olive, in affectionate reproach, and, sitting down at
her feet, she took the withered hand, and laid it on her neck.

"My sweet wee lassie--my bonnie, bonnie birdie!" said the tender-hearted
old lady, who often treated her grand-niece as if she were a child. "If
I had known sooner that poor Angus had left a daughter! My dearie, come
back soon."

"In a month, Auntie Flora."

"A month seems long. At eighty years one should not boast of the morrow.
That is why I will tell ye now what rests on my mind."

"Well, dear aunt, let me hear it."

"'Tis anent the worldly gear that I will leave behind me. I have been
aye careful of the good things Heaven lent me."

--She paused; but Olive, not quite knowing what to say, said nothing at
all Mrs. Flora continued:

"God has given me great length of days--I have seen the young grow auld,
and the auld perish. Some I would fain have chosen to come after me,
have gone away before me; some have enough, and need no more. Of all my
kith and kin there is none to whom the bit siller can do good, but my
niece Olive, and Harold Gwynne. Does that grieve ye, lassie? Nay, his
right is no like yours. But he comes of blood that was sib to ours.
Alison Balfour was a Gordon by the mother's side."

As Mrs. Flora uttered the name, Olive felt a movement in the left hand
that lay on her neck; the aged fingers were fluttering to and fro over
the diamond ring. She looked up, but there was perfect serenity on the
face. And, turning back, she prayed that the like peace might come to
_her_ in time.

"Before ye came," continued Mrs. Flora, "I thought to make Harold my
heir, and that he should take the name of Gordon--for dearly I loved
that name in auld lang syne. Ah, lassie! even in this world God can wipe
away all tears from our eyes, so that we may look clearly forth unto the
eternal land."

"Amen, amen!" murmured Olive Rothesay--ay, though while she uttered the
prayer, her own tears blindingly