n I e'er heard tell
o'. Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him."

The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It
would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful.

CHAPTER VIII.

Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night
he left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of
his years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from
Perthshire than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into
the wilderness after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that
any path of duty is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people
looked strangely on him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian
going through Vanity Fair.

He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not
expect to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place.
Number 34 Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went
up to the door, an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left
it. A man dressed in the Crawford tartan opened the door.

"Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?"

"Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a
carefully-shaded room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners
and great flowering plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the
first time Tallisker had ever seen a calla lily and he looked with
wonder and delight at the gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of
Helen. Colin sat in a great leathern chair reading. He did not lift
his head until the door closed and he was sensible the servant had
left some one behind. Then for a moment he could hardly realize who it
was; but when he did, he came forward with a glad cry.

"Dominie! O Tallisker!"

"Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever
kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what
wi' pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly
increased."

Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then
refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual
confidence.

Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without
reserve and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about
entering Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had
some idea of joining his lot with his own people there. But he found
them in a state of suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in
th