ink. Tell me, Lizzie, don't
you feel stronger since you came here? I think you look it.'

'I'm weel enough,' responded Liz dully; 'an' it's a lovely place--a
lovely place. I'll never forget it, never as long as I live.'

It was the first note of enthusiasm Gladys had heard regarding Bourhill,
and it pleased her well.

'I hope you won't, and that you'll come often to see it.'

'I dinna think I'll ever come again; it's no' likely. Hoo lang are we to
bide?'

'As long as you like,' answered Gladys frankly,--'till you are quite
strong, anyhow. Teen is in no hurry to go back to Glasgow; are you?'

'Sometimes it's very quiet,' said Liz candidly.

'But what are you going to do when you return?'

Liz shook her head, but her lips gave forth no answer.

'I hope you will go to your brother, as he wished,' said Gladys, and she
could not for the life of her help a curious restraint creeping into her
voice. 'It would be so very nice for him to have you; it is dreadful for
him to live quite alone, as he does. Why won't you go?'

'He kens what way,' replied Liz quietly.

Gladys was perplexed. There was nothing particularly encouraging in the
girl's look or manner, but she thought the time had come to put the
question which had so often trembled on her lips. It was a proof of
Gladys Graham's fine and delicate nature that she had not ere this
sought to probe into Liz Hepburn's secret, if she had one.

'Lizzie,' she said gently, 'I hope you won't be angry at what I say; but
often, looking at you, I see that you are unhappy. I have never sought
to pry into your concerns, but perhaps, if you were to tell me something
about yourself, you would feel more at rest.'

'D'ye think sae?' she asked, with a faint, ironical smile, which Gladys
did not like. 'If it eased me, it micht keep you frae sleepin'. I'm very
much obleeged to you for no' haein' pestered me wi' questions. I dinna
ken anither in the world but Teen that wad hae treated me as you have.
But my life's my ain, an' if I suffer, I'm no' askin' pity. I can bear
the brunt o' what I've brocht on mysel.'

It was a flat repulse, but it was gently spoken, and did not vex the
sensitive soul of Gladys.

'Very well, Liz,' she said kindly, 'I'll never ask any more; but
remember that if I can help you at any time, I am ready, always ready,
for your sake and for Walter's.'

'He worships the very ground you walk on,' said Liz calmly. 'I wonder
what way him an' me was born? Is't tru