ding ripples of the news were fast approaching Duncan's
ears.

Malcolm found him expectant and restless. When he disclosed himself he
manifested little astonishment, only took him in his arms and pressed
him to his bosom, saying, "Ta Lort pe praised, my son! and she wouldn't
pe at aal surprised." Then he broke out in a fervent ejaculation of
Gaelic, during which he turned instinctively to his pipes, for through
them lay the final and only sure escape for the prisoned waters of the
overcharged reservoir of his feelings. While he played Malcolm slipped
out and hurried to Miss Horn.

One word to her was enough. The stern old woman burst into tears,
crying, "Oh, my Grisel! my Grisel! Luik doon frae yer bonny hoose amo'
the stars, an' see the braw laad left ahint ye, an' praise the Lord 'at
ye hae sic a son o' yer boady to come hame to ye when a' 's ower." She
sobbed and wept for a while without restraint. Then suddenly she rose,
dabbed her eyes indignantly, and cried, "Hoot! I'm an auld fule. A body
wad think I hed feelin's, efter a'!"

Malcolm laughed, and she could not help joining him.

"Ye maun come the morn an' chise yer ain room i' the Hoose," he said.

"What mean ye by that, laddie?"

"'At ye'll hae to come an' bide wi' me noo."

"'Deed an' I s' du naething o' the kin', Ma'colm. H'ard ever onybody sic
nonsense? What wad I du wi' Jean? An' I cudna thole men-fowk to wait
upo' me: I wad be clean affrontit."

"Weel, weel! we'll see," said Malcolm.

On his way back to the House he knocked at Mrs. Catanach's door, and
said a few words to her which had a remarkable effect on the expression
of her plump countenance and deep-set black eyes.

When he reached home he ran up the main staircase, knocked at the first
door, opened it and peeped in. There sat Lenorme on the couch, with
Florimel on his knees, nestling her head against his shoulder, like a
child that had been very naughty, but was fully forgiven. Her face was
blotted with her tears, and her hair was everywhere, but there was a
light of dawning goodness all about her, such as had never shone in her
atmosphere before. By what stormy-sweet process the fountain of this
light had been unsealed no one ever knew but themselves.

She did not move when Malcolm entered--more than just to bring the palms
of her hands together and look up in his face.

"Have you told him _all_, Florimel?" he asked.

"Yes, Malcolm," she answered. "Tell him again yourself."

"No, F