e an affirmative--it
would have startled the ear that might have feared and yet loved the
sounds. One not less versed in human nature might be safer in the
construction derived from the new objects, new duties, new desires, new
thoughts, from all the thousand things that act on the mind in this
wonderful scene of man's existence; but would he be truer to the nature
of the heart that has once loved? We may be contented with a mean, where
extremes shoot into the darkness of our mysterious nature. Alice Scott
took in gradually the interests of her new sphere; did not despise the
apparel suited to it; did not reject the manners that adorned it; did
not turn a deaf ear or a dead eye to the eloquent ministers that lay
around amidst the beauties of Whitecraigs and hailed her as mistress,
where she was once a servant, if not a beggar.

Meanwhile the house of Homestead was enlarged, to fit it as a residence
for the uncle. Mr. Pringle was continued agent for the proprietress of
Whitecraigs; and, while many, doubtless, speculated on a thousand
theories as to these strange occurrences, we may not deny to Hector
Hayston, wherever he was, or in whatever circumstances, some interest in
what concerned him so nearly as the disposal of his estate, and the
fortune of her by whom his first affections had been awakened. Neither
shall we say that Wallace and Pringle had not, too, their secret views
and understandings, and that the latter was not silent where the
interests of his old employer called for confidence. In all which we
may be justified by the fact that, one day, the agent of Whitecraigs
introduced to the bachelor of Homestead a young man: it was the former
proprietor of Whitecraigs.

"It is natural, Mr. Wallace," said Mr. Pringle, "that one should wish to
revisit the scenes of his youth--especially," he added, with a smile,
"when these have been one's own property, come from prior generations,
and lost by the thoughtlessness of youth."

"It is," replied Wallace, renouncing his usual gravity, "even though
there should be no one there who might claim the hand of old friendship.
But this young man has only, as yet, seen the hill-tops of his father's
lands; and these claim no seclusion from the eye of the traveller. He
might wish, with greater ardency, to see the bed where his mother lay
when she bore him, or the cradle (which may still be in the house) where
she rocked him to sleep."

"God be merciful to me!" replied the youth, a