is
first interview with Little Bel, when, in reply to his question, "An'
now, my own lass, what'll ye have for your weddin' gift from me? Tell me
the thing ye want most i' a' the earth, an' if it's in my means ye shall
have it the day ye gie me the thing I want maist i' the whole earth."

"I've got it a'ready, Sandy," said Little Bel, taking his face in her
hands, and making a feint of kissing him; then withdrawing coquettishly.
Wise, innocent Bel! Sandy understood.

"Ay, my lass; but next to me. What's the next thing ye'd have?"

Bel hesitated. Even to her wooer's generosity it might seem a daring
request,--the thing she craved.

"Tell me, lass," said Sandy, sternly. "I've mair money than ye think.
There's no lady in a' Charlottetown can go finer than ye if ye've a
mind."

"For shame, Sandy!" cried Bel. "An' you to think it was fine apparel I'd
be askin'! It's a--a"--the word refused to leave her tongue--"a--piano,
Sandy;" and she gazed anxiously at him. "I'll never ask ye for another
thing till the day o' my death, Sandy, if ye'll gie me that."

Sandy shouted in delight. For a brief space a fear had seized him--of
which he now felt shame indeed--that his sweet lassie might be about to
ask for jewels or rich attire; and it would have sorely hurt Sandy's
pride in her had this been so.

"A piano!" he shouted. "An' did ye not think I'd that a'ready in my
mind? O' coorse, a piano, an' every other instrument under the skies
that ye'll wish, my lass, ye shall have. The more music ye make, the
gladder the house'll be. Is there nothin' else ye want, lass,--nothin'?"

"Nothing in all this world, Sandy, but you and a piano," replied Little
Bel.

The other picture was on a New Year's Day, just a twelvemonth from the
day of Little Bel's exhibition in the Wissan Bridge school-house. It is
a bright day; the sleighing is superb all over the island, and the
Charlottetown streets are full of gay sleighs and jingling bells,--none
so gay, however, as Sandy Bruce's, and no bells so merry as the silver
ones on his fierce little Norwegian ponies, that curvet and prance, and
are all their driver can hold. Rolled up in furs to her chin, how rosy
and handsome looks Little Bel by her husband's side, and how full of
proud content is his face as he sees the people all turning to look at
her beauty! And who is this driving the Norwegian ponies? Who but
Archie,--Archie McLeod, who has followed his young teacher to her new
home, and is to