been her hero, her ideal True Knight, that he had failed to live
up to her high standard, and that another, a real hero, who had left
her at the call of duty, had, all unwittingly, slipped into his place?

And then an event happened that made it unnecessary for her to tell
him. It was the news that came one early day in Spring, when all the
world was a wild rush of wind and water, and blinding sunshine,--the
word that Gavin had been killed.

By a strange chance it was Wallace, himself, who brought the news to
Christina. When Mr. Holmes heard the dread message ticked off on the
telegraph machine, he went straight to Mr. Sinclair, again, with his
burden of dismay and grief. And, unable to bear the heavy news alone,
the minister went over to see if Dr. McGarry would help him carry the
terrible burden to Craig-Ellachie.

Mr. Holmes kept the dread secret to himself until they had time to
deliver it, fearing that the Grant Girls might hear it from another
source. So the news had not reached the Lindsay farm in the evening
when Wallace came up the hill to see Christina.

He could not but notice a growing change in her manner towards him, but
he had put it down to her grief over the loss of her brothers. One of
Christina's charms in his eyes had been her independence and her
evident indifference as to whether what she did or said should please
him or otherwise, but he thought it was high time she was showing some
warmth of feeling and instead she had been strange and cold and aloof
recently. And Wallace, accustomed to have everything arranged just as
he wanted it, was beginning to feel somewhat ill-used. He felt that,
though Christina were so heartbroken over Jimmie and Neil, she ought to
show more consideration for him. And to-night he had made up his mind
to ask her to share the Ford place with him. He had quite decided that
there could never be any one like Christina for him, and he felt sure
that when they were really engaged she would be more like her old self,
and they would be as happy as they were in the beginning.

Christina was sitting in the warm corner by the sitting-room stove,
knitting a sock for Gavin when he entered. The room was bright and
pleasant, and Wallace felt very happy when he flung himself luxuriously
upon the deep sofa. But Christina was graver than she had ever been.
She was sorry for him and was blaming herself bitterly; she had laid a
snare for her own feet and now she was in desper