ys sentenced to death, and caught but a brief glimpse of his
pale, brave face as he went away into exile. At such a time the sun and
the light and the moon and the stars are darkened, and the clouds return
after rain. But through those clouds the Mistress of the Glen came to
meet me--a stranger till then, but an appointed friend, a minister of
needed grace, an angel of quiet comfort. The thick mists of rebellion,
mistrust, and despair have long since rolled away, and against the
background of the hills her figure stands out clearly, dressed in the
fashion of fifty years ago, with the snowy hair gathered close beneath
her widow's cap, and a spray of white heather in her outstretched hand.

There were no other guests in the house by the river during those
still days in the noontide hush of midsummer. Every morning, while the
Mistress was busied with her household cares and letters, I would be out
in the fields hearing the lark sing, and watching the rabbits as they
ran to and fro, scattering the dew from the grass in a glittering spray.
Or perhaps I would be angling down the river, with the swift pressure
of the water around my knees, and an inarticulate current of cooling
thoughts flowing on and on through my brain like the murmur of the
stream. Every afternoon there were long walks with the Mistress in the
old-fashioned garden, where wonderful roses were blooming; or through
the dark, fir-shaded den where the wild burn dropped down to join the
river; or out upon the high moor under the waning orange sunset. Every
night there were luminous and restful talks beside the open fire in the
library, when the words came clear and calm from the heart, unperturbed
by the vain desire of saying brilliant things, which turns so much of
our conversation into a combat of wits instead of an interchange of
thoughts. Talk like this is possible only between two. The arrival of a
third person sets the lists for a tournament, and offers the prize for a
verbal victory. But where there are only two, the armour is laid aside,
and there is no call to thrust and parry.

One of the two should be a good listener, sympathetic, but not silent,
giving confidence in order to attract it--and of this art a woman is
the best master. But its finest secrets do not come to her until she
has passed beyond the uncertain season of compliments and conquests, and
entered into the serenity of a tranquil age.

What is this foolish thing that men say about the imp