omparison with me, the humble 'supe' and lightning-change artist;
yet I kept my temper,--at least I kept it until the Reverend Ronald
observed, after escorting us through the gap in the wall, "By the way,
Miss Hamilton, there was a gentleman from Paris at your cottage, and he
is walking down the road to meet you."

Walking down the road to meet me, forsooth! Have ministers no brains?
The Reverend Mr. Macdonald had wasted five good minutes with his
observations, introductions, explanations, felicitations, and
adorations, and meantime, regardez-moi, messieurs et mesdames, s'il
vous plait! I have been a Noroway dog, a shipbuilder, and a gallant
sailorman; I have been a gurly sea and a towering gale; I have crawled
from beneath broken anchors, topsails, and mizzenmasts to a strand where
I have been a suffering lady plying a gowd kaim. My skirt of blue drill
has been twisted about my person until it trails in front; my collar is
wilted, my cravat untied; I have lost a stud and a sleeve-link; my hair
is in a tangled mass, my face is scarlet and dusty--and a gentleman from
Paris is walking down the road to meet me!

Chapter XVIII. Paris comes to Pettybaw.

'There were three ladies in a hall--
With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay,
There came a lord among them all--
As the primrose spreads so sweetly.'

--The Cruel Brother.

Willie Beresford has come to Pettybaw, and that Arcadian village has
received the last touch that makes it Paradise.

We are exploring the neighbourhood together, and whichever path we
take we think it lovelier than the one before. This morning we drove
to Pettybaw Sands, Francesca and Salemina following by the footpath and
meeting us on the shore. It is all so enchantingly fresh and green on
one of these rare bright days: the trig lass bleaching her 'claes' on
the grass by the burn near the little stone bridge; the wild partridges
whirring about in pairs; the farm-boy seated on the clean straw in the
bottom of his cart, and cracking his whip in mere wanton joy at the
sunshine; the pretty cottages; and the gardens with rows of currant and
gooseberry bushes hanging thick with fruit that suggests jam and tart
in every delicious globule. It is a love-coloured landscape, we know it
full well; and nothing in the fair world about us is half as beautiful
as what we see in each other's eyes. Ah, the memories of these first
golden mornings together after our long separation. I shall s