ads, and before they returned a visitor had arrived. They fell in with
Dan on their way home, and as they came in sight of the house, chatting
together eagerly, there was something like the old light in Shenac's eye
and the old colour in her cheek. If she had known whose eyes were
watching her from the parlour window, she would hardly have lingered in
the garden while the children spread their nuts on the old house-floor
to dry. She did not know till she went into the house--into the room.
She did not know till he was holding her hands in his, that Mr Stewart
had come.

"Shenac, good, dear child, is it well with you?"

She had heard the words before. All the scene came back--the
remembrance of the summer days, her dying brother and his friend--all
that had happened since then. She strove to answer him--to say it was
well, that she was glad to see him, and why had he not come before? But
she could not for her tears. She struggled hard; but, long restrained,
they came in a flood now. When she felt that to struggle was vain, she
would have fled; but she was held fast, and the tears were suffered to
have way for a while. When she could find voice, she said,--

"I am not grieving too much; you must not think that. Ask Allister. I
did not mean to cry, but when I saw you it all came back."

Again her face was hidden, for her tears would not be stayed; but only
one hand was given to the work. Mr Stewart held the other firmly,
while he spoke just such words as she needed to hear of her brother and
herself--of all they had been to each other, of all that his memory
would be to her in the life that might lie before her. Then he spoke of
the endless life which was before them, which they should pass together
when this life--short at the very longest--should be over. She
listened, and became quiet; and by-and-by, in answer to his questions,
she found herself telling him of her brother's last days and words, and
then, with a little burst of joyful tears, of Dan, and all that she
hoped those days had brought to him.

Never since the old times, when she used "to empty her heart out" to
Hamish, had she found such comfort in being listened to. When she came
to the tea-table, after brushing away her tears, she seemed just as
usual, Shenac Dhu thought; and yet not just the same, she found, when
she looked again. She gave a little nod at her husband, who smiled back
at her, and then she said softly to Mr Stewart,--

"Y