er past, and the choice of her last
residence was a stroke of diabolical genius. Paisley is an ancient
town inhabited by a virtuous and industrious people, who used to make
shawls and now spin thread, and the atmosphere is so literary that it
is believed every tenth man is a poet. Yet people do not boast of
having been born there, and natives will pretend they came from
Greenock. No one can mention Paisley without a smile, and yet no one
can say what amused him. Certain names are the source of perennial
laughter, in which their inhabitants join doubtfully, as persons not
sure whether to be proud or angry. They generally end in an apology,
while the public, grasping vaguely at the purpose of such a place,
settle on it every good tale that is going about the world unprovided
for and fatherless. So a name comes to be bathed in the ridiculous,
and a mere reference to it passes for a stroke of supreme felicity.

"Paisley"--Jamie again tasted the idea--"she 'll be an acqueesition tae
the Glen."

It was Sarah's first stroke of character to arrive without
notice--having utterly baffled Peter at the Junction--and to be in
complete possession of the manse on the return of Carmichael and his
aunt from pastoral visits.

"Sarah," cried the old lady in amazement at the sight of the
housekeeper in full uniform, calm and self-possessed, as one having
been years in this place, "when did ye come?"

"Two hours ago, m'am, and I think I understand the house. Shall I
bring tea into the dining-room, or would you rather have it in the
study?" But she did not once glance past his aunt to Carmichael, who
was gazing in silence at this composed young woman in the doorway.

"This is Sarah, John, who hes come to keep yir house," and his aunt
stepped back. "Sarah, this is my dear laddie, the minister."

Perhaps because her eyes were of a flashing black that pierced one like
a steel blade, Sarah usually looked down in speaking to you, but now
she gave Carmichael one swift, comprehensive look that judged him soul
and body, then her eyes fell, and her face, always too hard and keen,
softened.

"I will try, sir, to make you comfortable, and you will tell me
anything that is wrong."

"You took us by surprise, Sarah," and Carmichael, after his hearty
fashion, seized his housekeeper's hand; "let me bid you welcome to the
manse. I hope you will be happy here, and not feel lonely."

But the housekeeper only bowed, and turned to his aunt.