SABINA ZEMBRA.

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 100, 28 April 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

SABINA ZEMBRA.

A JJO^EL.

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CHAPTER XLIX. , s - pAEKNESS. ,;„ a year after these occur EOre:lonthemovnmgof the that & 1* , wto-ooub. In fact, rtWVjS' butJaniewas an Salread/ £f s 'tirevvoman, and as f nlfcK beloved Sabie out of A^ b in sho would put stmisrht >'S beneath the chin, and S^^vdl- and then she had ff* WSithe throat, a little S^yftl had been presented something,' said Janie. "fl^lt" her visitor asked. •^'T.; the Academy. I suppose 'rtrtlt—.andMrs--, a "d iiS"° tin eir. what's her name ? **■*? aid-not a bit. Do you 1 do believe block suits you **? toX*; and thats justi! t w j s h you could S «»ori n youwnlk: no credit to to be easy enough to wran Oh, there will be %SSere, no doubt; they Di6lS attention that way; fine dresses as as" "but where is the one that ■*ile)Pi like our Sabie's?" . MtST^ W* the 'WA«etall the stooping and R "V worrying into corners over giSyou'H have nothing to gffSe! Janie/.her friend SSseen, to be goim; to thta i?L in a proper frame of

in the course irVdJanie, as she stepped back Soao that she could scan Sabina itofoot. The result o this exSns obviously satisfactory. fltev may have dresses as stylish as ic/ninakethem.butlknowwho k the most disfcinguished-looking ' inthat crowd. Come along. It's WofPhilnofc fcopive up one morning:, inerybuay, he'll come along as soon janintheafternoon. And mind you, km mustn't let any of the people iiasway. You're going with os; j

iiiar child, I hardly know a human iiaLondon now ! I don't suppose ■i be a soul in the place who will rejiiMod job too,' said Janie, stubi'kl want you all to myself.' MMo. the hansom that was awaitfa It was a summer-like morning ; KsinLondon the air was quite sweet Ej. They had a pleasant drive in ptton Gardens and Piccadilly; Ipy reached Burlington House Ifjaafter eleven. |;|tered the vestibule, Janie knew liirt was beating a little more Bid usual. She had not heard HpLindsay for a, very long time ; mi, had every reason to believe pa still abroad; but once or twice plad struck her that perhaps he llsomeunexpected way turn up at late View. And the very first thing pieceiving a catalogue from one of takt3 was to turn quickly to the lilitors at the end of the little ! Itlad always been Lindsay's cus-istdiaawater-colour to the Academy Sa,chiefly for the sake of obtaining 8« on Varnishing Day, which is an alJijfor going round the galleries. 'foil'ssurprise she found that this iJMffiTOabsent from the list. She «M however. She kept her distil and her anxious surmises to

wWagood steady, two hours' work JPp'ftiires; and then Janie marched M% into the luncheon room and ■"•coupleof goats.' For Janie was ■PW gave herself airs in conse■PMbina was' a visitor from the ■p™tardty knew the ways of the Km? a(1 te taken aboufc HS r1 ani* treated when occa■E^uTif pettC!d always- Janie eon■"■TOtliat she could not underitf v? Me was her nusband > wn° lEr1 all ? hafc morning going ■j™ tte prettiest woman in the ■iTf^be pictures with her, and KJ?. n i T eh as evev he chose, Mm \\v Tei'y m °meat have HE J* thls table making merry ■•■ttenodert fashion allowed by ME' an? instead of that, he mast WWnungairay at his allegorical fflSf s', No matter ! was En She had Sabie alito ■L %m Very haPPy aild very MkJ, y ?'8 hfc Pro««ce what ■ft"" they chose; she would »hKT vifch your purchased ■r*^Beautiful One.' BCfrV^^^ooking KtL ? 0? Sabina Beemed Bt£u "'T^ He shook hands »l^ edt° Hie ml' tWo> or three years ■BAft-H'she looked H WlOaiul the piano and singing "M^ilits? you hearcl anything B^keffi*6 said' reddening a iliff "P-for she did not m*mll^T T b, efore Sabi™ more ■SJuJ haveonlyliisNew i|% I St. he.>3n'fc answered m^Z en,Old^ where he is. tf|^s° ;for there may have K^tLSr 1 f0l '^0t who ifc X)« *ye? c Was s°mething ■fci°kinpP again. ■>» wrl ißcaP° Painter to Kj^ 1^ bewildered and 'B^tt'lj*6 said ' rather mi>li -^ letter i b^d [ :^ery ft m/y handwriting. \\-hl t0O: he - 'feirS,1 fhe.had been' Mfc, 8 lng wrong with B^igL^.' he said. ■ffi 50 and Bftv^af PaßSalono"-' »^)\ST ents furthev K^ty" h, e left she did 1 31?^.

The afternoon passed without incident— excepting that Sabina encountered her father in this slow-moving assemblage. He came along bland, smiling, and loftily gracious, as usual nodding to this side or that, as he. recognised some one sufficiently distinguished to merit so much of notice. Sabina hesitated. They had not met since the time he went down to Witstead. She did not advance towards him, nor did she avoid him ; she stood just a little bit withdrawn, so that he could treat her as he cho.se—passing1 on without recognition, if so it pleased him. And yeb she looked timidly at him. 'Ha !' said he, as if she were some mere ordinary acquaintance. ' How de do ? How de do ?' He offered her a couple of fingers ; bufc ho scarcely bestowed a look on her ; his glance was far ahead of him, picking out the groat of the land, with whom it pleased him to know that he was on such excellent terms. And then he went on again, of course taking no heed of Janie, who was not a distinguished personage. Philip Drexel had arrived in due course ; and Janie took the first opportunity she could find—Sabina happened to be engaged in conversation with some who knew her —to say to her husband, and rather anxiously— ' Phil, do you remember the last letter we had from Walter Lindsay ?' ' What about it ?' 'Do you remember anything peculiar about the handwriting?' 'No.' ' They say there's something wrong with his eyesight,' said Janie, in an undertone. ' Yes, I remember his saying his eyes sometimes bothered him a little.1 'Oh, he spoke to you about it?' Janie said, eagerly. ' Yes : I think it was when he was just back from America—there was some talking about sea voyages, and he spoko of the glare of the water.' ' But it was nothing serious ?' she said. ' Oh, no ; not at all.' ' What a fright I got '.' said Janie, half to herself; but at this moment Sabina returned to them, and so no further mention was made of Walter Lindsay. Now it was for this Private View that Sabina prolonged her visit; consequently there was but the one more evening for these three to spend together betore her return to Buckinghamshire. It was a very enjoyable evening, nevertheless : for the iong-talked-of tour in Scotland that Philip and his wife had been promising themselves year after year had now been definitely fixed for the following month ; and they had very nearly persuaded Sabina to go with them as their guest; so that now there was nothing for it but to put a big map on the dining-room table, and discuss routes, and indulge in all kinds of imaginary sights and pleasures. Janie's mind ran mostly on mountains and remote islands set amid lonely seas ; her husband was interested more in the mediaeval architecture, and ruins, and legends and traditions And ho declared that, wherever else they might go, they must visit the Braes of Yarrow ; for he had some notion of stealing a subject out of Hamilton of Bangour's pathetic ballad; and he wanted to see what the neighbourhood was like. It is to be guessed that it was nofc the youthful lover, in 'his robes of green,' that was in Mr Philip's mind: nor yet the cruel slaughter done on Yarrow's banks. These things were hardly in his way ; more likely he was thinking of a single female figure, dim and visionary, with a face grown white with grief, aud eyes hollow and haunted with despair.

' Return, return. 0 mournful, mournful bride, Return, and dry thy useless sorrow; Thy lover heeds nought of thy sighs ; Ho lies a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. Then behind this solitary figure a halfsuggested landscape—vague and grey and shadowy —a darkened river—the fatal bank where she 'tint her lover, lover clear '— and beyond these the low - lying hills, sombre under the heavy sky, and receding into a mysterious gloom. ' Sabie,' said Janie, the next morning, afc the door of the cab, ' make it a definite •Yes." , ' I cannot; you are really too kind, was Sabina's answer. ' I should be dreadfully in the way. * Two's company ; three s none' If it was a run down to Brighton, that might be all right; but a long travelling through Scotland ! And then the expense : young married people like you shouldn't dream of such extravagances. • Then you deliberately mean to spoil my visit to Scotland ?' said Janie. ' What can you mean ?' 1 You know well enough. It has been promised me all along that when we went to Scotland, you should come with me; and what else did I think of? Its not the old abbeys I care for ; it's having you with us. And now you deliberately say no. As for the expense-well, if Phil says hecan aflord it, and easily afford it, I suppose that is enough ? And I never expected to hear you, Sabie, talk as if you were too proud to accept a small kindness from us: it isn t like you to talk like that—as between you and me.' ' You goose, I never said anything of the kind,' Sabina answered her, good naturedly. ' Well, I will think over it. And if I can brin"1 myself to inflict such trouble on you, then"! will go as your maid, and you will let me travel third-class.' ' Yes, I think that would do very well, Janie said, gravely. ' Only, lam afraid, in that case, Phil would very soon forsake the mistress for the maid. He would be too much in the third-class compartment. Now, Sabie, before you go-a definite " Yea !" ' ' Really, I cannot, Janie, dear : but i. will let you know—l must see how old Mr Foster likes it.' 'Within a fortnight you will let me know ?'

'Yes. certainly.' ' And then you will at once come up to town, and stay with us for a week, and get your travelling things ready ?' • I am afraid if I do go, I shall have to do with what I have.' ~ 'Ah but you'll come and see, Sabie ! her friend said.' beseechingly. ' And we'll go to the Scotch place in Regent-street. Oh, shouldn't I like to see you in a lone grey ulster, and a Tarn o' Shanter-at Euston Square Station— walking up and down the platform. You would look so comfortable in it • and ie would suit your tall figure, too. Sabie. I'm going to give you that for your birthday present.' ' What nonsense ! But grood-bve, Jame. good-bye-tell the man to look sharp, or 1 shall miss my train.' . For several days thereafter, Jame expected every morning to hear from Miesenden ; but no message came, and she thought she must write again and urge Sabie to give her consent. However, something Sow occurred that changed the whole situation of affairs. , One morning she andher husband were bßHolr^r^Si tothe irritation naturally begotten b the receipt of a circular. Nevertheless, she mechanically opened the ennjfljpe. and glanced at the contents. p ™sf,™ al ß™ turned to the signature :it was W alter Lindsay' she saw there, bnt not m ms ha< nSr'pMf what's this?' she cried. re £Ss"brisr^£ quiver ; then her eyes filled with teais, then she rose. , , -j an( j 'Read it, Phil. I-Icant., sliesaid, ana th^hewas asked to **»»«*&! £ the contrary, it was wnYf" iv aooloaimndance of good humour. L » J^^ed gised, to beg. in with, for not haungan-ueiea

her letter long before ; the fact being that it had been forwarded from New York to place to place, until it had finally reached him in the ' Kingdom of Galloway.' Then he went on : ' They say the wounded hare crawls home to die. Well, it is not quite as bad as that with me ; but when I te 1 you that my eyesight, lias gone from bad to worse, so that now all 1 can tell is the difference betwixt night and day, you will understand that it was but natural!should come back to the old familiar place where 1 can imagine my surroundings, it' I cannot, .sec them. And really 1 am very comfortable, and lead a pleasant enough life. The lad who writes these lines to you is a sharp-eyed fellow, with an admirable acquaintance with evety bird and beast you may meet on a morning walk ; and an eager sportsman, too, from ' firing at rabbits, which he never hits, to guddiinfi- trout in the burns; and lamas much interested in his performance as if they were my own. I have myself tried a little fly-fishing, with more or fess success ; butexpectto be moreat homemfcvolling with the phantom-minnow, if 1 can come across some good-natured fellow who has a salmon-lock. Then I have books and newspapers read to me ; and there is no lack of tobacco; and then wo have long walks round the coast, or up on the hill-sides, and my companion tells me how many birds thore were in the covey that got up at our feet, or what kind of ships they are that are passing, and how far he thinks the horizon is off. So you sco I have a good excuse for a life of inglorious ease, and I have but litfclo right to complain ; things might have been a good deal harder to bear. And as regards the oporation they speak of at some future time, I am trying to prepare myself for the worst. This darkness came upon me by slow degrees, so that I got used to it in a measure ; and I can look forward to a life-long continuance of it without much dismay. There were one or two things, in the way of my work, I had thought to have attempted—that is the only reflection that does trouble me a little at timos; but 1 don't know that I should have done any bettor than I had done before ; and what I have done must now speak for itself. For one thing, the critics may now look on me as a dead man ; and they always say nice things about you after you are dead. ' This is a very egotistical letter ; but I thought you would like to know exactly how the case stands with me; and if any one should ask about me, you will be able to say that I am not at all given over to black moods of despair. And it you only knew how I long for news of any friends in whom you and I are mutually interested, I am sure that of your kindness you would send me a line. I would have written to you before, to beg that news of you ; but have been trying hard to get quite thoroughly accustomed to my position and circumstances, so as to write in a fairly contented way. And I think lam content. I know I shall be more than content when you send me some bit of news. The smallest things told to moj are full of interest — that there are yellow marsh-marigolds in the ditch by the road-eide —that a hawk is hovering high in the air—that a blue kingfisher has just darted up the stream—or that a small white rabbit is lying asleep in the sun, just outside the parental burrowall these little things are of the keenest interest, for they are so many messages from the great world of life and lieht and colour that is all around me, and that I may never sco again. So you may imagine what news from friends must be. Did 1 say that I would have written before, but that I waited until I was quite used to my surroundings ? Tell Philip that if they should ask about me at the Arts Club, he may say that I am not repining over much,'

These were the pertinent passages ; and Janie's husband had just finished them when she returned to che room, her eyes red with crying. 'He is pitting a very brave face on it,' said he. 'But anyone can feel there is more than is set down here.'

• Oh, it is terrible —it is terrible,' she said, with a bit of a returning sob. ' Phil, what are you going to do ?' ' Well, we shall bo in Scotland anyway ; don't you think we ought to go and see him ?'

' Ah, I thought you would cay that!' Janie exclaimed, and there was a soft gleam of pride and gratitude in her tear-filled eyes. ' And then -as for Sabie ?' She hesitated for but a moment; and it was herself who boldly made tlje answer.

1 Well, if Sabie refuses to go to Scotland noio-~ she is not the woman I took her for.'

CHAPTER L.

IN THE KINGDOM OF GALLOWAY,

Janie was not long left in doubt. ' If you think he would like it,' Sabina wrote instantly, 'if you think it would be a little break in the monotony of his life, or would serve to convince him how much we sympathise with him in his dreadful misfortune, I will go with you, and gladly. How can I ever forget his kindness to me in my darkest hours ? And if that can never be repaid, surely the least I can do is to show him that I remember, and am grateful.1 Then there was a bustle of preparation in the house : for Janie's ideas.about Scotland and about what was necessary for such a journey were of a vague description; for perhaps she would hardly have been surprised if warned to take tinned meats with her in case of their being snowed up in June, or if Philip had been advised to purchase a rifle, on the chance of his getting a shot at a bear. However, Philip's first care was to ascertain that this visit would be agreeable to Walter Lindsay; and accordingly he wrote, saying they were coming round that way, and would like to see him, and might perhap?, if there was an hotel in the neighbourhood, stay for a few days, and give him the pleasure of their company if he cared for it. He added that Sabina fwas coming with them.

The answer showed how gratefully this proposal had been received. " I have made my young friend here read your letter over several times, for it sounded too good to be true ; but I am convinced at last; and you may be sure I understand why yon think of coming to this out-of-the-way place. And we'll say nothing about an hotel, if you will put up with such accommodation as my poor house affords ; and we will try to give you a Scotch welcome. It is an interesting neighbourhood ; you Mill be able to plan plenty of excursions ; and you needn't be afraid that I shall be a drag on you—l shall be glad enough when you come home in the evening. In the meantime it will be quite an occupation for me to make preparations for your coming ; if I can't see what is going on, I shall be no worse off than the modern general who sits in his tent and conducts a battle from the reports sent into him. I would telegraph for Mrs Reid, to give us her additional assistance ; but her face would remind Sabina of that sad time; so perhaps we shall be better without. By the way, I have once or twice been thinking of writingl to you about my house and studio in London. Once upon a time I made a solemn vow never to sell them—because of certain associations. But then I was earning a good incomo ; now that I am earning nothing, it seems a useless piece of extravagance. Probably I shall never be in London again : and, considering this that has happened to me, I think I am entitled to absolution from that vow ; so that if you should chance to hear of a likely tenant or purchaser, you might let me know.' ' Never to be in London again ?' repeated Janie, when she read the letter. ' Does he think he would be sucli a trouble to his friends—a drag on them, he says? But he is hopeless because he is alone. When Sabie and you and I are all with him, we will try to cheer him up a little. And— and I hope Sabie will be kind !'

Then Sabina was summoned up from the country, to join in the general and joyful hurry of preparation for departure. But when she saw what Janie considered needful in the way of rugs, ulsters, waterproofs, and the like—and when she discovered that these good people, though far from being abundantly rich, were making no scruple about providing her with all of these-her conscience smote her. The cost of travelling, too, would be great; why should she become such a burden upon them ? The alternative was that she should go and ask her father for a renewal of the allowance which., lie had formally intimated to her, still remained at her disposal. Perhaps, in other circumstances, she would even now have backed out of this proposed holiday, and contentedly gone down home again to Buckinghamshire. But she wanted to go to Scotland - if her going would be taken as a kindness by one who was once kind to her, and was now sorely stricken—and so she put her pride in her pocket, wrote io her father, erot an appointment to meet him at. the Waldegravo Club, and went there and found him. There- were two well-known politicians passing through the hall while Sabina was standing there, talking to her father, and explaining her position. When they had swung the glass door behind them, tho one said to the other :— ' What a remarkably handsome girl that is talking to Anthony Zembra—did you notice her ?' ' Why, don't you know who she is ?' said the other. 'No.' ' His daughter, that's all.' ' How can that be ? I havo never seen her at the house ?' 'Oh, she's marned—or was married—or something,' his companion said, indifferently. ' She doesn't live with family number two.' Meanwhile, Sabina was being lectured in a cold fashion about the consequences of her evil ways. But when it came to the question of money, there was no difficulty. Sir Anthony pointed outgto her that it was no wish of his that one of his daughters should be dependent on tho bounty of anyone ; that her allowance was being punctually paid her when she chose to relinquish it, from motives best known to herself ; that it was still at her disposal; and that personally he should much prefer that no relation of his was in receipt of charity from any source whatever. For Sir Anthony liked to speak of his own motives, aims, circumstances, and position ; and he seldom failed to convey to his interlocutor a sense of how far, far away from that high standard of integrity and prudence and conscientiousness he or she was. Sabina loft the Waldegravo Club just a little bit humbled ; but at all events she know that now those kind people who were befriending her would not have to pay for her travelling equipment.

Then there came the joyous morning on which these three found themselves walking up and down the wide, sounding platform of Euston Station. A carriage had been reserved for them ; Philip had stuffed it full of newspapers and magazines. And now Sabina (having yielded to Janie's insistence) was clad in an ulster of grey homospun with a Tarn o' Shantor of similar colour, and looked more like a Highland chieftainess than a Kensington-born young woman.

' Take your seats for the North !'

To some folk there is more in these simple words than ever was put into any song or ballad. But these three travellers were, as a first stage, going no farther than Carlisle ; and, indeed, knew little of what was before them.

' Look hero,' said Mr Philip, taking1 out his pocket-book as book as they were through the tunnels and into the clear daylight again, ' I was talking1 some little while ago to an American, over here for tho first time, and he told me that what struck him most in England was the number of interesting things, historical and otherwise, that you find everywhere, within a small compass. Go anything you like, he said—for a morning stroll—and there's always something. Now I wonder what he would say to this little run between Carlisle and Stranaer. I have been jotting down some of the points while I was ransacking the guide-books ; and really we shall have our work cut out before wo reacli Carn-ryan Tower. Listen. They begin the minute you cross the Border. Gretna Green—well, that's nothing. Kirtle Water—that is where Helen of Kirkconnell was shot in saving the life of her lover '

' Oh, if you tako account of all the imaginary stories—' his wife objected.

'My dear,' said he, 'it isn't an imaginary story. It was a very actual occurrence—as tho gentlepnan who fired the shot found out. The slaying of Burd Helen wasn't at all the end of the incident—a little interview had. to take place between tho lover and the murderer—don't you remember ?

' My sword did draw, Stern was our fight on Kistloshaw, 1 hewed him down in pieces ama', For her sake that died for mo.' Then what comes next ? Dumfries. I don't know how wo are ever to get away from Dumfries and its neighbourhood. Of course we must drive out and see Ellisland, Burns's farm ; and Friar's Carse, too ; then there's Lincluden Abbey; Drumlanrig Castle ; Maxwollton Braes—we'll maybe find another Bonnie Annie' Laurie tripping over the dew; Craigenputtock, where Thomas the Thunderer prepared his bolts before coming up to London ; Sweetheart Abbey, that Devorgilla built in memory of her husband —thirteenth century work that must be; Caerlaverock Castle; Threavo Castle; Dundrennan Abbey, whore Quoen Mary spent her last night in Scotland, after the battle of Langsido '

'Phil,'said his wife to him, 'if you are going to give so much time to these old abbeys and monasteries, what do you say to Sabie and me going on to Carn-ryan and waiting for you there? Indeed, if you are going to spend so much time on this little bit of Scotland, how are we to know anything of the country generally ? I thought we should see something of the lonely islands in the west; and the mountains; and certainly Edinburgh, and Melrose ; and you wanted to go back by Yarrow —that's away somewhere else '

'Here's gratitude,' said he, 'for my having crushed twenty pages of guide book into ten lines. However, we'll make this compact. You bear with a,s much architecture as you can : and, on ray side, when you think a place is not likely to be interesting I'll cut it out: Sabina to be umpire.' So that was settled; but both Sabina and Philip knew very well that it was no ignorant lack of interest in historical or poetical associations that had prompted Janie'e little protest; it was that she was anxious to show Walter Lindsay that his friends had not forgotten him in his trouble, but were quick with their sympathy. That night they stopped at ' Merry Carlisle ;' and next morning were up betimes, and on the ramparts of the red Castle, looking away across the green meadows, and the winding Eden towards tho pale blue line of the Scotch hills at the horizon. Then they crossed the Border, and guessed at the place where

' In my arms Burd Helen dropped, And died for love of me.' They spent two days in and around Dumfries. They went; on to castle Douglas. They made their way in the famous Kingdom of Galloway that is 'bleat with the smell of bog-myrtle and peat.' Finally, in this slow fashion, they rested a night at Newton-Stewart, so as to take the morning train to Stranraer; and there they found awaiting them at the station a waggonnette, to convey them to Carn-ryan. It was a beautiful soft-aired June morning, and the country through which they drove was picturesque enough—with occasional glimpses of the sea ; but there is no doubt that the two women folk were

, —! , very much pre-occupied, not to say;anxious and nervous. ' You'd better say nothing at all,' PHilip) Drexel had advised them. 'It would; only be an embarrassment. Clearly lie isfdetermined to put a brave face on it; jnfet you talk to him as if nothing had happened.' 'It seems hard, though.' Janie, said, wistfully, ' that—that he couldn't' know<j how sorry we are.' 'You can't say anything well,' remarked Mr Philip, -who had a little common sense, ' and what is the use of saying ib badly. And don't yon think lie will "understand!"/ When at length they arrived at Cnprnryan they found1" it quite a modern pkice (the old tower, as they afterwards "discovered, was on a promontory facing the sea.) The house was two-storied, wide and PfcraggMng, surrounded by fair meadows and woods, and with a high-walled fruitrgiarden at some distance away. The lYerich windows, the brimly-kept lawn, and flowerpots, wore all very cheerful and pleasant; and if they had been expecting anything of the grim and grey dignity of a?i ancient Scottish keep, they were speedily disillusionised. They alighted from the waggonette, and were received by an elderly man-servant and a smart young maid, who informed them that Mr Lindsay was down in the fruit garden, but would be forthcoming directly, as lie would hear the carriage wheels. >So they did not go into the house : they loitered about theifronfc doov, looking 'at the shrubberies, and the larch-trees, and the beds of forget-me-nots, .and at certain small round puff-balls under a distant hedge which they found out to bo white rabbits. Then Lindsay made his appearance, at some way off, walking rather slowly, withlhis hand resting on the shouldenof a young kid. His tall form was as erect as ever, but his head was bent a little forward, as if ho had fallen into a habit of listening intently. When he came still nearer they could see that thore was no appearance whatever of his being blind; there was not even, a shade over his eyes. But they heard the'boy say . to him, in an undertone— ' There's a gentleman, sir; and a tall young leddy ; and anither ane not so tall.' He came forward, holding out both his hands. ' I bog your pardon,n, hundred times,' he said. ' This is hardly a Scotch welcome. I should have beon at the door to receive you, but I fancy Sandy has come a good pace, or else I've mistaken the time. And this is you, Philip—and this is you, Janie —then this must be you ' ' Sabina !' she said, with a touch of ontreaty: she could not be left out of the little friondly circle. 11 am glad you have brought such fine weather with you,' he said, cheerfully. ' Didn't you think the country looking Dretty as you came along ?' ' Oh, beautiful—beautiful!' Ja'nie's husband said. The two women could hardly speak. It was so piteous to hear him talk approvingly of all these things around ■ them, and still to be so far away from them ; it seemed almost as if ho were imprisoned within some living tomb. 'Come into the house, then,'he said, as if he would himself lead the way. And thon lie hesitated—and put forward his foot a little, to find whore the etone step was ; for the young lad had withdrawn a ; space, to leave his master free to talk to his guests. At this moment it happened that ; Sabina was next to Lindsay, and could not but see his helplessness.

' \\ ill you take ray hand ?' she said, and she gently p U fc her fingers on his arm, and guided him into the hall. It was her right hand that she put on his arm ; with the left she was brushing aside the tears that, in spite of herself, rained down her face. (To be Concluded.)