she took farewell of these
green glades in her girlish days. And as she sits, quietly thinking,
while the little group round her are making the green aisles resound
with their merry laughter, we fancy, as we glance at her face, that it
is one we have seen before in this valley. The "stealthy day by day" has
certainly done its work; the outline of Grace's cheek is sharper than it
used to be, and the eager, speaking eyes have lost somewhat of their
fire, but there is a calm gladness in their gaze as she glances at the
joyous faces round her, that speaks of lessons learnt, and sorrows past,
during chequered days which have lain between the autumn evening, when
we saw her last, and this July afternoon, when she is coming with her
"two bands" to the home of her girlhood.

Miss Hume, Grace's aunt, had passed away from this world during that
autumn seventeen years ago, and Grace had never revisited Kirklands
since. Walter, to whom it belonged, was still a naval officer. His home
on the sea had still more fascination for him than the inland beauties
of Kirklands, which had been left to strangers during the intervening
years.

For some time past it had stood empty and tenantless, and Walter had
suggested that his sister, who had just come from a long sojourn abroad,
should, with her children, take up her abode there. Her husband, Colonel
Foster, was still on foreign service; and Grace, who longed to see the
old home after all her wanderings, had readily agreed to go with her
little flock and introduce them to the spot which was their dreamland of
romance, the historic ground of all the pleasantest stories in their
mother's mental library, often ransacked for their benefit.

Mrs. Foster's servants were already at Kirklands, making preparations
for the arrival. The old rooms were being opened up once again, and
shafts of golden sunlight streamed through the long-darkened windows, on
the dark-panelled walls, as if to herald joyously the good news that
"life and thought" were coming back to the deserted house.

As the carriage followed the windings of the avenue, the grey gables of
the old mansion began to peep through the green boughs, their first
appearance being announced by a jubilant chorus from the elder boys on
the box, which made little Willie feel painfully that his range of
vision was far from satisfactory. Presently, however, the timeworn walls
could be seen by all the party, as the carriage wheeled round the old
terr