dible whisper from a
wee lassie to her mother--

'Mither! See till yon man. He's greetin'.'

When I came to myself she was singing 'The Land o' the Leal,' the Scotch
'Jerusalem the Golden,' immortal, perfect. It needed experience of the
hunger-haunted Cowgate closes, chill with the black mist of an eastern
haar, to feel the full bliss of the vision in the words--

'There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is aye fair in
The Land o' the Leal.'

A land of fair, warm days, untouched by sorrow and care, would be heaven
indeed to the dwellers of the Cowgate.

The rest of that evening is hazy enough to me now, till I find myself
opposite Mrs. Mavor at her fire, reading Graeme's letter; then all is
vivid again.

I could not keep the truth from her. I knew it would be folly to try. So
I read straight on till I came to the words--

'He has had mountain fever, whatever that may be, and he will not
pull up again. If I can, I shall take him home to my mother'--when she
suddenly stretched out her hand, saying, 'Oh, let me read!' and I
gave her the letter. In a minute she had read it, and began almost
breathlessly--

'Listen! my life is much changed. My mother-in-law is gone; she needs
me no longer. My solicitor tells me, too, that owing to unfortunate
investments there is need of money, so great need, that it is possible
that either the estates or the works must go. My cousin has his all in
the works--iron works, you know. It would be wrong to have him suffer. I
shall give up the estates--that is best.' She paused.

'And come with me,' I cried.

'When do you sail?'

'Next week,' I answered eagerly.

She looked at me a few moments, and into her eyes there came a light
soft and tender, as she said--

'I shall go with you.'

And so she did; and no old Roman in all the glory of a Triumph carried a
prouder heart than I, as I bore her and her little one from the train to
Graeme's carriage, crying--

'I've got her.'

But his was the better sense, for he stood waving his hat and shouting--

'He's all right,' at which Mrs. Mavor grew white; but when she shook
hands with him, the red was in her cheek again.

'It was the cable did it,' went on Graeme. 'Connor's a great doctor! His
first case will make him famous. Good prescription--after mountain fever
try a cablegram!' And the red grew deeper in the beautiful face beside
us.

Never did the country look so lov