er heart was swelling a little too; but it soon subsided as she said to
herself, "A vale of tears, indeed, is this life; or rather a waste and
howling wilderness, to that poor lady with her restless mind. God knows
I would not reckon hardly with her, or anyone so far from peace of mind.
Nor can I wonder, when I pity her so much, that others should also, and
forget other things when she is before their eyes. I did think, when I
heard the minister was coming--But I had no right to expect anything
beyond the blessing of the sabbath, and of burial, and the ordinances.
And oh, there is the comfort of the sabbath! The Word is preached, and
there is prayer and praise now on sabbath-days for a year to come; or,
perhaps, as many years as I shall live. If this was a place for peace
of mind before, what can trouble us now?" The closing psalm of last
sabbath had never been out of her ears and her heart since. She now
began to sing it, softly at first, but louder as her soul warmed to it.
She was soon stopped by a louder sound; a shrill cry from the next
house, and presently Mrs Ruthven rushed in to know what she was to do.
Lady Carse was hysterical. The package had contained no news from her
friends, but had brought cruel disappointment. It contained some
clothing, a stone of sugar, a pound of tea, six pecks of wheat, and an
anker of spirits; and there was a slip of paper to say that the same
quantity of these stores would be brought yearly by the steward when he
came to collect the heather rent. At this sentence of an abode of years
in this place, Lady Carse had given way to despair; had vowed she would
choke the steward in his sacks of feathers, that she might be tried for
murder on the main; and then she had attempted to scatter the wheat, and
to empty out the spirits, but that Mr Ruthven had held her hand, and
told her that the anker of spirits was, in fact, her purse--her means of
purchasing from Macdonald and others her daily meat and such service as
she needed. But now she was in hysterics, and they did not know what to
do next. Would Mrs Fleming come?

Annie thought the lady would rather not see her; told Mrs Ruthven how
to treat the patient, and begged that the children might be sent to her,
if they were in the way.

The children were with Annie all the rest of the day; for their father
and mother were exceedingly busy writing letters, to go by the steward.

In the evening the steward paid them a visit, in his