m, and the sunshine coming in through the clustering roses, chased
her anxious thoughts away. The sense of repose that gradually grew upon
her in her new home was very grateful to her; but she did not enter
eagerly into the new interests and pleasures, as her brother did.
Indeed, she could do very little but be still and enjoy the rest and
quiet; for, when all necessity for exertion was over, that came upon her
which must have come soon at any rate: her strength quite gave way, and,
for some time, anxiety on her account sobered the growing happiness of
the rest.

Even her aunt did not realise till then how much beyond her strength had
been the child's exertions during the winter and spring. Not that she
would acknowledge herself to be ill. She was only tired, and would be
herself again in a little while. But months passed before that time
came. For many a day she lay on the sofa in the long, low parlour of
Glen Elder, only wishing to be left in peace, smiling now and then into
the anxious faces of her aunt and Archie, saying "it was so nice to be
quiet and to have nothing to do."

But this passed away. In a little while she was beguiled into the sunny
garden, and before the harvest-holidays set Archie at liberty she was
quite ready and able for a renewal of their rambles among the hills
again.

As for Mrs Blair, the return of her son, and the coming home to Glen
Elder, did not quite renew her youth; but when the burden that had bowed
her down for so many years was taken away, the change in her was
pleasant to see. For a long time she rejoiced with trembling over her
returned wanderer; but as day after day passed, each leaving her more
assured that it was not her wayward lad that had returned to her, but a
true penitent and firm believer in Jesus, a deeper peace settled down
upon her long-tried spirit, and "I waited patiently for the Lord; and He
inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He hath set my feet upon a rock,
and established my goings. And He hath put a new song in my mouth,"
became a part of her daily thanksgiving.

As for him, if it had been the one desire of his life to atone for the
sorrow he had caused her in his youth, he could not have done otherwise
than he did. He made her comfort his first care. Her slightest
intimation was law to him. Silently and unobtrusively, but constantly,
did he manifest a grave and respectful tenderness towards her, till she,
as well as others, could not but wonder,