he can be a great help and comfort to us
baith," she said, "and it is but three or four days in a month he
could be awa' from the ship."

"Do you want him here, dearie?"

"It would be a great pleasure to me, Mither. I spend many anxious
hours about Cluny, when the weather is bad." And Margot remembered how
rarely she spoke of this anxiety, or indeed of Cluny at all. For the
first time she seemed to realize the girl's unselfish love, and she
looked at Christine with eyes full of tears, and said:

"Write and tell Cluny to come hame. He is welcome, and I'll gie ye
baith my blessing!" And Christine kissed and twice kissed her mother,
and in that hour there was a great peace in the cottage.

This concession regarding Cluny was the breaking down of Margot's last
individual bulwark. Not by assault, or even by prudence, was it taken.
A long service of love and patience made the first breach, and then
Christine's sweet, uncomplaining reticence about her lover and her own
hopes threw wide the gates, and the enemy was told to "come hame and
welcome." It was a great moral triumph, it brought a great
satisfaction, and after her surrender, Margot fell into a deep,
restful sleep, and Christine wrote a joyful letter to Cluny, and began
to calculate the number of days that must wear away before Cluny would
receive the happy news.

A few days after this event Christine began to read to her mother
"Lady Audley's Secret," and she was much astonished to find her sleepy
and indifferent. She continued in this mood for some days, and when
she finally threw off this drowsy attitude, Christine noticed a very
marked change. What had taken place during that somnolent pause in
life? Had the silver cord been loosed, or the golden bowl broken, or
the pitcher broken at the fountain? Something had happened beyond
human ken, and though Margot made no complaint, and related no unusual
experience, Christine knew that her spirit was ready to return unto
God who gave it. And she said to herself:

"As I work, my heart must watch,
For the door is on the latch,
In her room;
And it may be in the morning,
He will come."

In the afternoon little Jamie came in, and Christine told him to go
very quietly to his grandmother, and speak to her. She smiled when he
did so, and slowly opened her eyes. "Good-by, Jamie," she said. "Be a
good boy, be a good man, till I see ye again."

"I will, Grandmother. I will! I promise you."

"What do you