th work and watching and
care, she had fallen under the mastery of blind terror for her brother's
safety, and had yielded where she ought to have stood firm.

She had no one to blame for what had befallen her. Her mother had
hardly been in a state to know what was going on around her, except that
her "bonny Willie"--as she called him in her prayers, and in her
murmured longings for him--was faraway, and might not come home in time
to see her die, or to help to lay her in her grave. Her father grieved
for his son, but, angry at him also, had uttered no word either to help
or to hinder the cause of the man who had made Allison's promise the
price of her brother's safety. But he went about with bowed head,
listening, and looking, and longing, ay longing, for the coming of the
lad. So what could she do but yield for their sakes, and take what
seemed the only way to bring him back again?

But one wrong was never righted by the doing of another, and her
sacrifice had come to worse than naught. Though she had sinned blindly,
she had suffered for her sin, and must suffer still. But gradually the
despair which darkened all the year was passing. There was hope in her
heart now, and a longing to throw off the dead-weight which had so long
held her down. And the lightening of her burden showed now and then in
eye, and voice, and step, so that all could see the change. But with
all this the thought of John Beaton had nothing to do.

She had seen him just as she had seen other folk and he had come into
her thoughts once or twice when he was not in her sight. But that was
because of the good understanding there was between him and little
Marjorie. The child had much to say about him when he was at home; and
when she was carried out in Allison's arms on those days, she was always
wishing that they might meet him before they went home again.

One day they met, and Marjorie being gently and safely transferred to
John's arms, Allison turned and went back into the house without a word
of explanation or apology.

"It's ironing day," explained Marjorie, a little startled at the look on
John's face.

"Oh! it's ironing day, is it? Well, never mind. I am going to take you
to the very top of Windhill to give you a taste of the fresh air, and
then I shall carry you home to take tea with my mother and me."

"That will be delightful," said Marjorie with a sigh of pleasure.

No. In those days Allison was thinking nothing at all