him. He opened the door of the humble cottage by
the common, to inquire his way; and there, in the old armchair so well
remembered, sat his mother, with her Bible on her knee. She did not
know him, but she gave him kindly welcome, bidding him sit and rest, as
he seemed weary. She did not know him till she felt his hot tears
dropping on her hands, and heard him praying for pardon at her feet.

It would do no good to tell what passed between the mother and the son.
That the meeting was joyful, we need not say; but it was very sorrowful,
too. For years of sin and years of suffering must leave traces too deep
for sudden joy to efface. Hugh Blair had left his mother in the prime
of life, a woman having few equals as regards all that in a woman is
admired. He returned to find her feeble, shrunken, helpless, with the
hair beneath her widow's cap as white as snow. He had redeemed his good
name; he had returned to surround her last days with comfort; he had
brought wealth greater than had blessed her most prosperous time. But
for all those years of poverty and doubt and anxiety, those years which
had made her old before her time, what could atone for these? And as
for her, even amid her thankful gladness the thought would come, "How
shall I ever learn to put trust in him, after all these years? Can his
guileless child's heart come back again to him?"

Oh, yes! the meeting was sorrowful, as well as glad.

With the joy of Archie and Lilias no misgiving mingled. Their cousin
Hugh had come home again. That was enough for them. In his youth he
had done many foolish things, and maybe some wrong things, they thought.
He had sinned against God and his mother. He had left his home, like
the prodigal, choosing his own will and way rather than do his duty.
But now, like the prodigal, he had come home repenting; and the best
robe and the ring for his hand these happy children made ready for him.

"There is joy among the angels to-night, Lily," said Archie, coming back
to whisper it to her, after she thought he was asleep.

"Yes: `this my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost and is
found,'" answered Lilias softly.

"And now Aunt Janet's midnight prayers will be changed to
thanksgivings," was the last thought of the weary child, as she lay down
that night. Her first thought in the morning was that her aunt would
not want the children for a few days at least, now that her cousin had
come home, and she would get rest a