lieved in her.

Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and
Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there;
for one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his
household arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had
ruled it during Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was
neglected, and all was disorder and discomfort. Now it is really
wonderful how much of the solid comfort of life depends upon a
well-arranged home, and the home must depend upon some woman. Men may
mar the happiness of a household, but they cannot make it. Women are
the happiness makers. The laird never thought of it in this light, but
he did know that he was very uncomfortable.

"I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the
dominie.

"You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o'
yours, laird. I ken one that will do you."

"Wha is she?"

"A Mrs. Hope."

"A widow?"

"No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband."

"Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie."

"She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I
would sanction aught wrong, laird?"

No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had
walked into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands.
Drunken, thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women
thoroughly capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his
wants anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The
woman was young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to
watch her with a genuine interest.

"She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like
them."

At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly
comfortable himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others.

One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned
aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went
to the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming
through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and
take a cup of tea with Tallisker.

"Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight
good for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a
drap o' hot tay till he comes."

So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture
of "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to hi