s hints
of their cousin Hugh Blair, and of his mother's troubles with him before
he went away. Not that he had much to tell about him, for there was
little said; but that little was enough to excite the curiosity and
interest of the children with regard to him; and they were never weary
of wondering why he went away, and where he was now, and whether he
would ever come home again.

"I wonder whether Aunt Janet thinks much about him? I wonder why she
never names him to us?" said Archie, one day, after they had been
speaking about him.

Lilias was looking very grave.

"I'm sure she often thinks of him. And I don't wonder that she seldom
speaks about him, when she can have little that is good to say."

"Maybe she thinks him dead," said Archie.

"No: I don't think that," said Lilias, sadly. And after a moment she
added, "Last night the sound of her voice wakened me. She was praying
for him; and it minded me of the `groanings that cannot be uttered.' I
am afraid Aunt Janet has troubles we know nothing about."

Yes, Mrs Blair had troubles which the children did not know of, which
they could hardly have comprehended had they known; and, of late, fears
for Archie had mingled with them. The remembrance of her utter failure
in guiding and governing her own son was ever present with her, filling
her with anxiety with regard to Archie's future. She had no fears for
Lilias, nor when her brother was a cripple had she fears for him. But
now that he was strong and well,--now that he must necessarily be
exposed to other influences, some of which could not but be evil, her
heart grew sick with a feeling of self-distrust as to her own power to
guide him.

It was this which made her listen with something like regret when Archie
told of new friends made among the hills. His frank, open nature made
him altogether unsuspicious of evil in others; and, knowing him to be
easily influenced, she could not but fear that he might be led astray.
Night after night, when Archie came home, she listened earnestly to hear
the names of those with whom he had met; and, though she never heard
anything from the boy's lips or saw anything in his actions to make her
fear that he was changing for the worse, she could not feel quite at
ease concerning him. For there ever came back to her the thought of her
son,--her wandering but still beloved Hugh; and many and earnest were
the prayers that ascended both for the guileless child and the erring,