sinful man, that through all the snares and temptations of life they
might be brought safe home at last.

She could not speak of her fears to Lilias. She could not find it in
her heart to lay the burden of this dread upon the child. She was so
full of the new happiness of seeing her brother strong and well again,
that she could not bear to let the shadow of this cloud fall upon her.
It would do no good; and she had really nothing but her fears to tell.
So in silence she prayed, night and day, that God would disappoint her
fears for Archie, and more than realise his sister's hope for him.

Mrs Stirling's visits to the cottage did not become less frequent as
the summer advanced, and her interest in Lilias seemed to increase with
every visit. Not that she had ceased to torment the child with her
discontented repinings for the past, or her melancholy forebodings for
the future. There was always some subject for comment ready; and Nancy
never let pass unimproved an opportunity to say something depressing.
But Lilias was learning not to mind her; and this was all the easier to
do, now that Archie's ill-health could no longer be her theme.

"Oh, ay! he's looking not so ill," said she, one day, while she stood
with Lilias at the gate, watching Archie, as he dug in the little
garden; "and he's not very lame. If you could only be sure that it
wouldn't break out again. Eh me! but he's growing to look awful like
his cousin Hugh. It's to be hoped that he won't turn out as he has
done."

Lilias gave a startled look towards the house-end, where her aunt was
sitting, as she answered, hurriedly:

"Archie's like my father."

"You needna be feared that I'll speak that name loud enough for her to
hear," said Nancy, answering Lilias' look rather than her words. "I
have more respect for her than that. Poor body! she must carry a sore
heart about with her, for all she looks so quiet and contented like."

Lilias sighed. The same thought had come into her own mind many and
many a time within the last few months.

"Did my cousin Hugh do anything so very bad?" she asked, looking
anxiously into Mrs Stirling's face.

"I dare say the folk that blame him most have done far worse things than
anything they can lay to his charge," said Nancy; "but there's little
doubt he did what made him fear to look on his mother's face again, or
wherefore should he not have come back? His name has never, to my
knowledge, passed her lips from th