t was breaking with
happiness--when her tears were falling so fast that Erle had to kiss
them away. Could it be true that he was really beside her; that out of
the mist and gloom her prince had come to her; that the words she had
pined to hear from his lips were now caressing her ear.

But Evelyn went up to her room.

It is not ordained in this life that saints and martyrs should walk
the earth with a visible halo round their heads; yet, when such women
as Margaret Ferrers and Evelyn Selby go on their weary way silently
and uncomplaining, surely their guardian angel carries an unseen
nimbus with which to crown them in another world.

CHAPTER XL.

AUNT JEANIE'S GUEST.

The cooing babe a veil supplied,
And if she listened none might know,
Or if she sighed;
Or if forecasting grief and care,
Unconscious solace then she drew,
And lulled her babe, and unaware
Lulled sorrow too.

JEAN INGELOW.

All the winter Fay remained quietly at the old Manse, tenderly watched
over by her kind old friend and faithful Jean.

For many weeks, indeed months, her want of strength and weary
listlessness caused Mrs. Duncan great anxiety. She used to shake her
head and talk vaguely to Jean of young folk who had gone into a waste
with naught but fretting, and had been in their graves before their
friends realized that they were ill; to which Jean would reply, "'Deed
and it is the truth, mistress; and I am thinking it is time that Mrs.
St. Clair had her few 'broth.'" For all Jean's sympathy found
expression in deeds, not words.

Jean seldom dealt largely in soft words; she was somewhat brisk and
sharp of tongue--a bit biting, like her moorland breezes in winter
time. In spite of her reverential tenderness for Fay, she would chide
her quite roughly for what she called her fretting ways. She almost
snatched the baby away from her one day when Fay was crying over him.

"Ah, my bonny man," she said, indignantly, "would your mither rain
tears down on your sweet face, and make you sair-hearted before your
time? Whisht, then, my bairn, and Jean will catch the sunshine for
you;" and Jean danced him vigorously before the window, while Fay
penitently dried her eyes.

"Oh, Jean, give him back to me. I did not mean to make him cry; the
tears will come sometimes, and I can not keep them back. I will try to
be good--I will, indeed."

But baby Hugh had no wish to