ess by another tendency of late--a tendency to
indulge--"

But Annie did not, at such a moment, stand upon ceremony. She was by
this time leading the children home, one in each hand.

"So you are really going away, and immediately?" said she to Mrs
Ruthven.

"Immediately," replied the heated, anxious Mrs Ruthven.

"Where is Lady Carse?"

The question again brought tears into Mrs Ruthven's swollen eyes.

"I do not know. Mr Ruthven wishes to be gone before she returns from
her walk."

"We leave her the entire house to herself," declared the pastor, now
entering. "Will you bear our farewell message to her, and wish her joy
from us of being possessor of the whole house; and of--"

"Here she comes," said Annie, quietly. "Lady Carse," she said, "this is
a remarkable day. Here is another way opening for your deliverance--a
way which appears to me so clear that you have only to be patient for a
few weeks or months before your best wishes are fulfilled. Mrs Ruthven
will now be able to do for you what she has so often longed to do. She
is going to the main--perhaps to Edinburgh; she will see Mr Hope, and
others of your friends; and tell your story. She will--"

"She will not have anything of the sort to do," interrupted Lady Carse.
"I shall go and do it myself. I told her, some time since, that
whenever she quitted this island I would not be left behind. I shall do
my own business myself, if you please."

"That is well," interposed the pastor; "because I promised the steward,
passed my solemn word to him, as a condition of my departure, that it
should never become known through me or mine that Lady Carse had ever
been seen by any of us. I entirely approve of Lady Carse managing her
own affairs."

Annie found means to declare solemnly to Mrs Ruthven her conviction
that no such promise could be binding on her, and that it was her
bounden duty to spare no effort for the poor lady's release.

She was persuaded that Mrs Ruthven thought and felt with her; and that
something effectual would at last be done.

The children now most needed her consolations.

"Do not be afraid," she said cheerfully to them. "I shall never forget
you. I shall think of you every day. Whenever you see a sea-bird
winging over this way, send me your love: and when I see our birds go
south, I will send my love to you."

"And whenever," said Helsa, "you see a light over the sea, you will
think of Widow Fleming's lamp, won't you?"