me?"

Was there any need for that question? Miss Margaret only answered by
clasping her brother's hand more closely in her own. As they stood there
in the autumn sunlight, united so lovingly, hand in hand, each silently
prayed that thus it might be with them always; not only through life's
autumn, but in that winter so surely for them approaching, and which
would give place to the fair and beautiful spring of the better land.

Annie Bermond's bright face looked in timidly at the open door.

"Come here, darling, come and stand right beside your old uncle and
aunt, and let us thank you with all our hearts for the good you have
done us. Don't cry any more, Margaret. Why, fairy, what is the matter
with you?" for Annie's tears were falling fast upon his hand.

"I hardly know, Uncle John; I never felt so glad in my life before, but
I cannot help crying. Oh, it is so sweet to think the cloud has gone."

"And whose dear hand, under God's blessing, drove the cloud away, but
yours, my child?"

Annie was silent; she only clung the tighter to her uncle's arm, and
Miss Greylston said, with a beaming smile,

"Now, Annie, we see the good purpose God had in sending you here to-day.
You have done for us the blessed work of a peace-maker."

Annie had always been dear to her uncle and aunt, but from that
golden autumn day, she became, if such a thing could be, dearer than
ever--bound to them by an exceedingly sweet tie.

Years went by. One snowy evening, a merry Christmas party was gathered
together in the wide parlour at Greylston Cottage,--nearly all the
nephews and nieces were there. Mrs. Lennox, the "Sophy" of earlier
days, with her husband; Richard Bermond and his pretty little wife were
amongst the number; and Annie, dear, bright Annie--her fair face only
the fairer and sweeter for time--sat, talking in a corner with young
Walter Selwyn. John Greylston went slowly to the window, and pushed
aside the curtains, and as he stood there looking out somewhat gravely
in the bleak and wintry night, he felt a soft hand touch him, and he
turned and found Annie Bermond by his side.

"You looked so lonely, my dear uncle."

"And that is the reason you deserted Walter?" he said, laughing. "Well,
I will soon send you back to him. But, look out here first, Annie, and
tell me what you see;" and she laid her face close to the window-pane,
and, after a minute's silence, said,

"I see the ground white with snow, the sky gleaming with stars,