e a prison to her, Dr Fleming had spoken to her about
taking service at the manse of Nethermuir, and she had said that she
would go gladly, and at once.

The only manse which she knew much about was in her mind when she made
the promise,--a house apart, in a sheltered, sunny spot, having a high
walled fruit garden behind it, and before, a broad, sloping lawn, with a
brown burn running at the foot. Yes, she would like to go. She would
get away from the din and closeness of the town. In a place like that
in which the old minister lived alone among his books, with only his
children or his grandchildren coming home to see him now and then, she
would be at peace. She would be away from the curious eyes that were ay
striving, she thought, to read her sorrowful secret in her face. Yes,
she would be glad to go.

But it was a very different place in which she found herself when she
reached Nethermuir. Anything more unlike the ideal Scottish manse than
the house to which she had come could not well be imagined. There was
no walled garden or lawn, or "wimplin burn" to see. If it had even a
right to be called "The Manse," might be doubted.

For it was only the house of the "Missioner Minister," a humble abode,
indeed, in comparison with the parish manse. It was a narrow,
two-storied house, with but the causey (pavement) between it and the
street. Across the close, which separated it from a still humbler
dwelling, came the "clack, clack" of a hand-loom, and the same sound,
though the night was falling, came from other houses near.

"A poor place, indeed," was Allison Bain's first thought, as she stood
regarding it from the darkening street, with a conscious, dull sinking
of the heart, which had already fallen so low. Not that the place
mattered much, she added, as she stood looking at the lights moving here
and there in the house. She was too weary to care for anything very
much that night. The morning stars had lighted her way the first two
hours of her journey, and there had been little time for rest during the
short November day. Footsore and exhausted after her thirty miles of
travel, she went slowly and heavily in. She could only listen in
silence to the kindly welcome of her new mistress, and then go silently
to the rest and quiet of her bed.

Morning came. Rest and quiet! These were not here, it seemed. The
sound of many voices was filling the house when Allie, having long
overslept herself, awoke at la