uld be too late.

There was one thing, though, that, in spite of his misery, he could not
help remarking: the utter absence of any reference to the meeting; and
it soon became evident that his lordship had thought good to keep all
secret. But what a fate for that poor girl, to become the wife of a man
so cowardly and devoid of honour!

"It shall not be!" exclaimed Brace, excitedly. "She looks to me for
help and protection, and I supinely sit and grieve when I should be up
and doing!"

He strode up and down the room, turning over in his mind a score of
schemes, one and all useless, some even absurd; but all seemed to
resolve in one idea, and at last he uttered his thoughts aloud,
exclaiming:

"That shall be the last resource--all failing, I will bear her off!"

"No, Brace," said the soft, gentle voice of Mrs Norton. "That would be
as dishonourable as it is wild. You are half mad with disappointment.
Why not wait wait patiently? I cannot but think that Isa, with all her
gentleness, is too much of a true woman to give up, even under coercion.
Wait and be hopeful."

"Mother," said Brace, bitterly, "I have thought over the past till my
brain has grown confused; and still I have gone on groping in the dark
to try and find a way out of this difficulty. Time goes swiftly now,
and before many days are past I must join my ship for a two years'
cruise. You tell me to be patient, and wait; but it makes me recall the
sufferings of another, and I see myself coming back some morning to hear
the chiming of old Merland's bells, while there is nought left for me to
exclaim but those two bitter words: `Too late!'"

"Bitter, then, my son," exclaimed a deep voice; "but time has happiness
in store for us all."

Brace Norton turned hastily to see his mother sink sobbing in his
father's arms.

Book 2, Chapter XVIII.

LOVER AND FATHER.

"Noo, leuke here, young man, I wadna speake to ye at all but for your
cloth, for my ain brither wore the true-blue, and was lost at sea in a
Kirkcaldy herring-boat, and so I always feel disposed to foregather with
ane who sails the ocean. Noo, ye've stoppit me oot here in the lane,
speerin' aboot the auld times. I was Sir Mooray's gairdener then, fresh
up frae the North Kintree--frae Galashiels, and spak the Scottish dialec
then, only lang-dwelling in furren pairts has made quite a furrener o'
me. But I was gaun to say, Sir Mooray wud be sair angered wi' me if he
knew I so much as spak t