seems to
me all lies in a nut-shell. If King James be truly the son of the old
King (which I cannot doubt), then God gave him the crown of England, of
which no man can possibly have any right to deprive him. Only God can
do that. Then comes the next question, Has God done that? Time must
answer. Without a revelation from Heaven, we cannot find it out any
other way."

"But until we do find it out, where are we to stand?"

"Keep to your last orders till you get fresh ones. A servant will make
sad blunders who goes contrary to orders, just because he fancies that
his master may have changed his mind."

I see that for all practical purposes my Aunt Kezia agrees with Annas.
And indeed what they say sounds but reasonable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the second of April when we left London. It had been arranged
that we should travel by the flying machine [Note. Stage-coaches
originally bore this hyperbolical name.] which runs from London to
Gloucester, setting forth from the Saracen's Head on Snow Hill. The
last evening before we set out, my Aunt Kezia, Hatty, and I, spent at
Mr Raymond's with Annas. His mother is a very pleasant old
silver-haired gentlewoman, with a soft, low voice and gentle manner that
reminded me of Lady Monksburn.

I felt it very hard work to say farewell to Annas. What might not have
happened before we met again? Ephraim was there for the last hour or
so, and was very attentive to her. I do think--And I am rather afraid
the Laird, her father, will not like it. But Ephraim is good enough for
anybody. And I hope, when he marry Annas, which I think is coming, that
he will not quite give over being my friend. He has been more like our
brother than anybody else. I should not like to lose him. I have
always wished we had a brother.

"No, not good-bye just yet, Cary," said Ephraim, in answer to my
farewell. "You will see me again in the morning."

"Oh, are you coming to see us off?"

He nodded; and we only said good-night.

Grandmamma was very kind when we took leave of her. She gave each of us
a keepsake--a beautiful garnet necklace to Hatty, and a handsome pearl
pin to me.

"And, my dear," said she to Hatty, "I do hope you will try to keep as
genteel as you are now. Don't, for mercy's sake, go and get those
blowzed red cheeks again. They are so unbecoming a gentlewoman. And
garnets, though they are the finest things in