shabby-looking, from the keyhole of which, when Malcolm hid his lantern,
a light was seen to gleam.

"They're no awa' to their beds yet, my lord. Will I knock?"

Lord Cairnforth had no time to reply, if indeed he could have replied;
for Malcolm's footsteps had been heard from within, and opening the door
with an eager "Is that you, doctor?" there stood before them, in her
very own likeness, Helen Cardross.

At least a woman like enough to the former Helen to leave no doubt it
was herself. But a casual acquaintance would never have recognized her.

The face, once so round and rosy, was sharp and thin; the cheek-bones
stood out; the bright complexion was faded; the masses of flaxen curls
--her chief beauty--were all gone; and the thin hair was drawn up
close under a cap. Her dress, once the picture of neatness, was neat
still, but the figure had become gaunt and coarse, and the shabby gown
hung upon her in forlorn folds, as if put on carelessly by one who had
neither time nor thought to give to appearances.

She was evidently sitting up watching, and alone. The rooms which her
door opened to view were only two, this topmost flat having been divided
in half, and each half made into just "a but and a ben," and furnished
in the meanest fashion of lodgings to let.

"Is it the doctor?" she said again, shading her light and peering down
the dark stair.

"Helen!"

She recognized at once the little figure in Malcolm's arms.

"You--you! And you have come to me--come your own self! Oh,
thank God!"

She leant against the doorway--not for weeping; she looked like one
who had wept till she could weep no more, but breathing hard in heavy
breaths, like sobs.

"Set me down, Malcolm, somewhere--any where. Then go outside."

Malcolm obeyed, finding a broken arm-chair and settling his master
therein. Then, as he himself afterward told the story, though not till
many years after, when nothing he told about that dear master's concerns
could signify any more, he "gaed awa' doun and grat like a bairn."

Lord Cairnforth sat silent, waiting till Helen had recovered herself--
Helen, whom, however changed, he would have known among a thousand. And
then, with his quick observation, he took in as much of her
circumstances as was betrayed by the aspect of the room, evidently
kitchen, dining-room, and bedroom in one; for at the far end, close to
the door that opened into the second apartment, which seemed a mere
closet, was one