fresh, inspiriting view to my taste, and
such a stretch of sky,--you may sit and foretell all weathers here."

"Yes, my dear, and I have foretold all weathers here. I'll talk to you a
little of my nice room, and why I am so sorry to think of leaving it."

"We hope you will not leave it," Joanna ventured, timidly.

"Ah! that rests with others now. But I came here a gay girl; I visited
at Whitethorn before my marriage, Joanna; I dwelt here a thoughtless,
happy young wife; and here I kept Harry, not quite so troublesome as
now; and here I lay a heart-stricken widow while they were bringing home
the corpse of my husband, who had left me a vigorous, determined man two
hours before."

"It must have been dreadful! dreadful!" murmured Joanna faintly; but
lifting up her face to Mrs. Jardine with the earnest confiding eyes, the
blanched cheeks, and that seal on her brow--"Oh, how often papa and I
have thought of it, and pitied you and ourselves!"

"My dear, it was one of those dispensations of Providence which one
never forgets to the end of a long life. But I was a sinner, I deserved
what I bore; we all deserve the sorest evil that can afflict us; and,
thank God, there is mercy mingled with the greatest misery. I do not
speak often of it, but I can do so to-day; and I find it is a relief to
talk to you of our misfortune, because you can sympathize with me; you
were a sufferer in it like myself; it cannot be to many other living
persons what it is to us two. I have had that brought home to me, my
love. I do not grieve or frighten you, Joanna?"

"No, Mrs. Jardine, I have lamented it all my life. I am very grateful
that you should let me say that papa was very sorry; they sound very
little words, Mrs. Jardine, but you understand them, and papa will
never cease to be sorry in this world, and we have only wanted to
comfort you."

"Poor fellow!" sighed Mrs. Jardine absently. "Crawfurd of the Ewes, an
accomplished, pleasant fellow--so broken a man!"

They talked a little longer of the tragedy with composed but strong
mutual interest and commiseration; and Mrs. Jardine acknowledged that
such pity was not like the world's pity, but was delicate and tender as
the ministry of any Barnabas or son of consolation; and when she
finished, she kissed Joanna on the forehead, and said to herself, "Harry
was right. If this is the sign of George Jardine's blood, it was placed
there to pay her father's debt, and set her apart for us."

"No