s far as the Border, if my Uncle
Drummond would come for her to the place chosen.

When the parting came, as we took our last kiss, I told her I prayed God
bless her, and that some day she might be as happy as I was. There was
a moment's flash in the brown eyes.

"Take that wish back, Cary," she said, quietly. "Happy as you are, the
woman whom Duncan Keith loved can never be, until she meet him again at
the gates of pearl."

"That may be a long while, dear."

"It will be just so long as the Lord hath need of me," she answered:
"and I hope, for his sake, that will be as long as my father needs me.
And then--Oh, but it will be a blithe day when the call comes to go
home!"

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

The Fells Farm, September 25th.
Five months since I writ a word! And how much has happened in them--so
much that I could never find time to set it down, and now I must do it
just in a few lines.

I have been married six weeks. Father shook his head with a smile when
Ephraim first spoke to him, and said his lass was only in the cradle
yesterday: but he soon came round. It was as quiet a wedding as
Sophy's, and I am sure I liked it all the better, whatever other people
might think. We are to live at the Fells Farm during the year of
Ephraim's curacy, and then Father thinks he can easily get him a living
through the interest of friends. Where it will be, of course we cannot
guess.

Flora has writ thrice since she returned home. She says my Uncle
Drummond was very thankful to have her back again: but she can see that
Lady Monksburn is greatly changed, and the Laird has so failed that he
scarce seems the same man. Of herself she said nothing but one
sentence,--

"Waiting, dear Cary,--always waiting."

From Angus we do not hear a word. Mr Raymond and Annas are to be
married when their year of mourning is out. I cannot imagine how they
will get along--he a Whig clergyman, and she a Tory Presbyterian!
However, that is their affair. I am rather thankful 'tis not mine.

My Aunt Dorothea has writ me one letter--very kind to me--(it was writ
on the news of my marriage), but very stiff toward my Aunt Kezia. I see
she cannot forgive her easily, and I do not think Grandmamma ever will.

Grandmamma sent me a large chest from London, full of handsome
presents,--a fine set of Dresden tea china (which travelled very well--
only on