you must have suffered!" he murmured.

"That is all over long ago; every year has left that further behind, and
made me more content. Dear Colin, for me there is nothing to grieve."

He could not control himself, rose up, made a long stride, and passed
through the open window into the garden.

"Oh, if I could only follow him," gasped Ermine, joining her hands and
looking up.

"Is it because you can't walk?" said Rose, somewhat frightened, and for
the first time beginning to comprehend that her joyous-tempered aunt
could be a subject for pity.

"Oh! this was what I feared!" sighed Ermine. "Oh, give us strength to go
through with it." Then becoming awake to the child's presence--"A
little water, if you please, my dear." Then, more composedly, "Don't be
frightened, my Rose; you did not know it was such a shock to find me so
laid by--"

"He is in the garden walking up and down," said Rose. "May I go and tell
him how much merrier you always are than Aunt Ailie?"

Poor Ermine felt anything but merry just then, but she had some
experience of Rose's powers of soothing, and signed assent. So in
another second Colonel Keith was met in the hasty, agonized walk by
which he was endeavouring to work off his agitation, and the slender
child looked wistfully up at him from dark depths of half understanding
eyes--"Please, please don't be so very sorry," she said. "Aunt Ermine
does not like it. She never is sorry for herself--"

"Have I shaken her--distressed her?" he asked, anxiously.

"She doesn't like you to be sorry," said Rose, looking up. "And, indeed,
she does not mind it; she is such a merry aunt! Please, come in again,
and see how happy we always are--"

The last words were spoken so near the window that Ermine caught them,
and said, "Yes, come in, Colin, and learn not to grieve for me, or you
will make me repent of my selfish gladness yesterday."

"Not grieve!" he exclaimed, "when I think of the beautiful vigorous
being that used to be the life of the place--" and he would have said
more but for a deprecating sign of the hand.

"Well," she said, half smiling, "it is a pity to think even of a crushed
butterfly; but indeed, Colin, if you can bear to listen to me, I think I
can show you that it all has been a blessing even by sight, as well
as, of course, by faith. Only remember the unsatisfactoriness of our
condition--the never seeing or hearing from one another after that day
when Mr. Beauchamp came down on us. Di