still
and rest; for you look weary."

Weary she was, too weary even to take in the lovely scene before her,
the hills and valleys in their fresh May garments. Far away on the
dusty highway a traveller was approaching; and her eyes fastened
themselves mechanically upon him. Sometimes he lingered and looked back
over the way he had come, and then hurried on, as though his business
would not brook delay. Still watching him as he advanced, Lilias idly
wondered whence he came, and whither he was going, and whether it was
hope or fear that urged him to such speed.

Then she thought of the many travellers on the highway of life, weary
and ready to faint with the journey; and, closing her eyes, she strove
to send a thought over her own uncertain future. She could see only a
little way before her. The school must be given up; but what was to
come after, she could not tell. She could think of no plan to bring
about what she most wished--the power to do something and yet stay at
home with her aunt. Change and separation must come, and she could not
look beyond these; and then she sighed, as she had done many a time
before.

"Oh, if I were only strong and well again!" So occupied was she with
her thoughts that she had not noticed the return of Mrs Stirling from
the brook, and was only made aware of it when she put a cut-glass goblet
filled with water in her hand. A very beautiful goblet it was, no doubt
equal to the one for which the Roman emperor, in the story, paid a small
fortune; and you may be sure it was a great occasion in Mrs Stirling's
eyes that brought it from the cupboard in the corner. No lips save
those of the minister had touched the brim for many a month.

But Lilias was too much occupied with her own thoughts to notice the
unwonted honour; and, strange to say, the slight was not resented.
Placing the glass in Lilias's hand, Mrs Stirling went into the house
again.

As Lilias raised it to her lips, her eyes fell again upon the
approaching stranger toiling along the dusty road, and her hand was
arrested. He had again slackened his pace, and his face was turned full
upon Lilias as he drew near. Upon it care or grief, or it might be
crime, had left deep traces. Now it wore a wild and anxious look that
startled Lilias, as, instead of passing along the high-road, he rapidly
came up the garden-path towards her.

"Can you tell me if I am on the high-road to Kirklands?" he asked, as he
drew near.

"Yes