ot have run away from
him, let the sea have kept calling her ever so much."

[Illustration]

The next evening, I looked for Elsie as usual, but did not see her.
How blank and dull the schoolroom seemed! Still she might arrive any
moment. But she did not come. I went through my duties wearily, hoping
ever for the hour of release. I could see well enough that Turkey was
anxious too. The moment school was over, we hurried away, almost
without a word, to the cottage. There we found her weeping. Her
grandmother had died suddenly. She clung to Turkey, and seemed almost
to forget my presence. But I thought nothing of that. Had the case
been mine, I too should have clung to Turkey from faith in his help
and superior wisdom.

There were two or three old women in the place. Turkey went and spoke
to them, and then took Elsie home to his mother. Jamie was asleep, and
they would not wake him.

How it was arranged, I forget, but both Elsie and Jamie lived for the
rest of the winter with Turkey's mother. The cottage was let, and the
cow taken home by their father. Before summer Jamie had got a place in
a shop in the village, and then Elsie went back to her mother.

CHAPTER XXXIV

An Evening Visit

I now saw much less of Elsie; but I went with Turkey, as often as I
could, to visit her at her father's cottage. The evenings we spent
there are amongst the happiest hours in my memory. One evening in
particular appears to stand out as a type of the whole. I remember
every point in the visit. I think it must have been almost the last.
We set out as the sun was going down on an evening in the end of
April, when the nightly frosts had not yet vanished. The hail was
dancing about us as we started; the sun was disappearing in a bank of
tawny orange cloud; the night would be cold and dark and stormy; but
we cared nothing for that: a conflict with the elements always added
to the pleasure of any undertaking then. It was in the midst of
another shower of hail, driven on the blasts of a keen wind, that we
arrived at the little cottage. It had been built by Duff himself to
receive his bride, and although since enlarged, was still a very
little house. It had a foundation of stone, but the walls were of
turf. He had lined it with boards, however, and so made it warmer and
more comfortable than most of the labourers' dwellings. When we
entered, a glowing fire of peat was on the hearth, and the pot with
the supper hung over it. Mrs. Duff