d his own plans and disappointments, had been taking no heed.

"I have great reason to be thankful," said Mrs Beaton softly; "and,
John lad, what could I do, but keep my fears to myself till I was quite
sure? You had your own trouble to bear, as I could well see, and it
would have made mine none the less to add to your pain."

"Oh! mother! mother!" was all her son could say.

"John," said Mrs Beaton, after a time, "I think you might tell your
mother!"

John raised his head and laughed, but there were tears in his eyes as he
came over to her, and stooping, he softly kissed her. "Do you need to
be told, mother?" said he.

These were the very first words which had passed between them concerning
the sorrow which had come to them both through Allison Bain, and they
were nearly all that were ever spoken.

"I grieved for you, John, and I feared for you; but I trusted Allison
Bain. If she does not love him, he is in no danger, I said. If she
loves him, she will withstand him for his own sake."

"Be content, mother. She withstood me, whether she loved me or not."

"I thank God for you both. May He ever lead you in His own way!"

Of course a voyage was to be taken. There was some hesitation as to
whether John should avail himself of the opportunity offered by a ship
which was to sail at once to bring home timber from Norway, or wait a
little longer for the _Griffin_, an emigrant vessel, bound for Quebec.
There were already great steam vessels crossing the ocean--not many of
them, however, at this time, but the long voyage would be rather an
advantage in John's case, and he made up his mind to go by the
_Griffin_. But he said nothing to make any one suppose that he did not
intend to return with her. There would be time enough to decide as to
the length of his stay, when he had seen the country.

So the mother and son bade one another farewell for a while, and Mrs
Beaton was the more courageous of the two when it came to the last words
between them. But they did not linger over last words. Robert Hume had
come to say good-bye to his friend, and to take care of Mrs Beaton on
her homeward journey to Nethermuir, and he was amazed at John's
"down-heartedness."

"Oh! man! if I only had your chance! Or if I were going with you!" said
he, and John echoed his wish.

He had been a good many days out of sight of land, before he began to
take himself to task for his utter inability to feel, or to profess an
interest