all you have been doing.' Well, and what withheld
her from such a natural course--from making her amends in this graceful
and generous fashion? Simply that same maidenly instinct of
self-preservation. She did not go back; she dare not trust herself with
Cyril Blake, because she was afraid of him, and perhaps--though this was
not quite so clear to her--she was afraid of herself. But, all the same,
she was very miserable--for doing one's duty does not always make one
happy--and she felt the joy of her home-coming was already marred; for,
with a person of Audrey's temperament, there is no complete enjoyment if
she were not in thorough harmony with everyone. One false note, one
'little rift within the lute,' and the whole melody is spoiled. So
Audrey's gaiety seemed all quenched that afternoon, and though her old
friend testified the liveliest satisfaction at the sight of her, and
Priscilla could not make enough of her, she was conscious that, as far
as her own pleasure was concerned, the visit was a failure.

But she was aware that no one but herself was conscious of this fact.
Certainly not honest Tom O'Brien, as he sat smoking his pipe in the
porch, and listening to her descriptions of Highland scenery with a
beaming face; neither was Mrs. Baxter a keen observer, as she testified
by her parting speech.

'You have done father a world of good, Miss Ross,' she said, as she
walked down to the little gate with Audrey. 'I think there is no one he
so loves to see, or who cheers him up in the same way as you do. You are
young, you see, and young people take more cheerful views of life; and
it is easy to see you have not a care on you. Not that I begrudge you
your happiness, for no one deserves it more; and long may it continue,
Miss Ross,' finished Mrs. Baxter, with her usual mournfulness.

CHAPTER XXI

'HE IS VERY BRAVE'

'Ah! life grows lovely where you are;
Only to think of you gives light
To my dark heart; within whose night
Your image, though you hide afar,
Glows like a lake-reflected star.'

MATHILDE BLIND.

For the first time Audrey closed the little gate of Vineyard Cottage
with a sense of relief that her visit was over. The two hours she had
just passed had been quite an ordeal to her. True, she had exerted
herself to some purpose: she had talked and amused her old friend; she
had partaken of Mrs. Baxter's cakes; she had even summoned up a
sem