ful look of some angel of innocence sent from a purer world.

There was a dead silence. In the midst of it the little one crept from
her corner, and stood between her parents, her little hands stretched
out, and her eyes full of tears.

"Olive has done nothing wrong? Papa and mamma, you are not angry with
poor little Olive?"

For the first time, as she looked into the poor child's face, there
flashed across the mother's memory the likeness of the angel in her
dream. She pressed the thought back, almost angrily, but it came again.
Then Sybilla stooped down, and, for the only time since her babyhood,
Olive found herself lifted to her mother's embrace.

"The child had better go away to bed," said Captain Rothesay.

Olive was carried out nestling closely in her mother's arms.

When Sybilla came back the angry pout had passed away, though a grave
troubled shadow still remained. She made tea for her husband, tried to
talk on common topics once or twice, but he gave little encouragement.
Before retiring to rest, she said to him, timidly,

"There is no quarrel between us, Angus?"

"Not in the least, my dear," he answered, with that composed deprecation
of any offence, given or received, which is the most painful check to
an impulsive nature; "only, we will not discuss matters of business
together again. Women never can talk things over quietly. Good-night,
Sybilla."

He lifted his head a little, a very little, for her accustomed kiss. She
gave it, but with it there came a sigh. He scarcely noticed either one
or the other, being apparently deep in a large folio "Commentary on the
Proverbs," for it was Sunday evening. He lingered for a whole hour over
the last chapter, and chiefly the passages,--

"Who can find a virtuous woman;
for her price is far above rubies.
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her:
so that he shall have no need of spoil....
She openeth her mouth with wisdom:
and in her tongue is the law of kindness."

At this, Captain Rothesay closed the book, laid his arms upon it; and
sighed--O how heavily! He did not go to bed that night until his young
wife had lain awake for hours, regretting and resolving; nor until,
after many determinations of future penitence and love, she had at last
wept herself to sleep for very sorrow.

CHAPTER VII.

Looking back on a calm and uneventful childhood--and by childhood we
mean the seven years between the babyhoo