sie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi'
shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab
oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out
her. I wad na hae ye abate one jot o' all ye think, for her price is far
above rubies; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the
kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up."

His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever
laughed sage counsels of chilling age.

I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in
those northern latitudes. Without any lingering spring, the cold
grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of
warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow
by the March winds, and through the tangle of matted turf shoot myriad
purple cups of the prairie anemone, while the russet grass takes on
emerald tints. One day the last blizzard may be sweeping a white trail
of stormy majesty across the prairie; the next a fragrance of flowers
rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become
miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds.

My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary
fluctuation from well to ill, and ill to well--which sickens the heart
with a deferred hope--all my old-time strength came back with the glow
of that year's June sun.

"There's nae accountin' for some wilful folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's
remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen
frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot
y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart."

"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered,
strolling to the cottage door.

"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There
be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits
aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The lassies aye rin
fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!"

With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and
sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some
theological disputation aloud.

"Odds, lad, ye should see the papist so'diers rin when I hae Calvin by
me," he remarked.

"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to
drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take thi