let me see what my memory is worth in my old age--let me see
what I can recall of our Janet. You know I always consider Janet my own
by favouritism; and she called me grandfather the last time we met, as
she used to do before she was able to spell so long a word."

He told so much of Janet, that Lady Carse changed her opinion about his
loss of memory. Again Annie stole home: and there did the President
seek her, after a long conversation with her neighbour.

"I wish to know," said he, "whether the great change that I observe in
this lady is recent."

"She is greatly changed within a few months," replied the widow: "and I
think she has sunk within a few days. I see, sir, that you look for her
release soon."

"If the change has been rapid of late," he replied, "it is my opinion
that she is dying."

"Is there anything that you would wish done?" asked Annie.

"What can we do? I perceive that she is in possession of what is
perhaps the only aid her case admits of--a friend who can at once soothe
her earthly life, and feed her heavenly one."

Annie bowed her head, and then said--

"You would not have me conceal her state from herself, I think, sir."

"I would not. I believe she is aware that I think her very ill--
decisively ill."

"I hope she is. I have seen in her of late that which makes me desire
for her the happy knowledge that she is going home to a place where she
may find more peace than near her enemies in a city of the earth."
Fancying that the President shook his head, Annie went on--

"I would not be presumptuous, sir, for another any more than for myself:
but when a better life is permitted to begin, ever so feebly, here,
surely God sends death, not to put it out, but to remove it to a safer
place."

The President smiled kindly, and walked away.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

FREE AT LAST!

Sir Alexander and his guests remained on the island only a few days; but
during that time the President gave Lady Carse many hours of his
society. Full as his mind was of public and private affairs--charged as
he was with the defence of Scotland against the treason of the Pretender
and his followers--grieved as he was by the heart-sorrows which attend
civil war--and now a fugitive, destitute of means, and in peril of his
life--he still had cheerfulness and patience to minister to Lady Carse.
From his deliberate and courteous entrance, his air of leisure, his
quiet humour in conversation, and his clear remem