ghed, thinking of her own dearest daughter who was faraway.

Marjorie stirred in Allison's arms, and there was no need to answer. By
and by Jack came with the lantern, and it was time to go home.

After this, in their brief intercourse--during a few minutes in the
garden, or by the parlour fire, while the child was being wrapped up to
go home--Mrs Esselmont had many a quiet word with Marjorie's faithful
nurse and friend, and their friendship grew slowly but surely.
Allison's revelation of herself, and of her past life, was for the most
part quite unconsciously made. Mrs Esselmont listened and made no
comments; but in her own thoughts, when she "put this and that
together," she owned that not often in the course of a long life had she
come into contact with one in whose character, strength and gentleness,
firmness and patience, were more happily combined. Without being aware
of it, she was beginning to regard this strong and silent young woman
not as a mere maid-servant in the manse, who came and went, and worked
for wages like the rest, but as one who, for reasons not to be revealed,
had chosen, or had been forced by an untoward fate, to begin a new life
in a sphere in which she had not been born. But much as she desired to
know more about her, she waited for Allison herself to speak.

Summer passed all too quickly and the "dowie fall o' the year" was
drawing on. There was no more going through the lanes to follow or to
flit the cows for Marjorie. The harvest was over, and the patient
creatures had the range of all the narrow fields, and cripple Sandy had
leisure to do his duty toward them without the help of any one. But
whenever a bright day came, or even a gleam of sunshine when the day was
dark, the child had still a turn in the lanes, or round the garden in
Allison's arms. All the days were busy days, but none of them were so
full of work or care as to hinder Allison in this labour of love, which
indeed was as good for herself as for Marjorie.

For there were times as the days began to grow dark and short when
Allison needed all the help which her love for the child could give her
to keep her thoughts from the cares and fears which pressed upon her.
No word came from Willie, though she had written to Mr Hadden to tell
him that her brother was free, and that she hoped he would soon be in
America, and that he might safely write to her now.

It was time for a letter unless Willie had lingered longer at home