ry
had observed in Mr. Crawfurd. It touched him--a fiery, dogged
man--extremely, in the one case as in the other. His mother, on the
announcement of his loss, had insisted on undertaking various domestic
examinations with respect to general retrenchment; he had humoured her,
under the impression that it diverted her mind, and broke the force of
what was a great calamity to her. He believed that she had over-exerted
herself, and he commenced to remonstrate in the imperious, reproachful,
affectionate tone, which the mother loves in her manly son.

"Yes, Harry, I have undertaken too much, and therefore I have requested
the company of two friends, who will be willing to lighten our burden."

"Strangers in the house at this time, mother?" exclaimed Harry,
bewildered. "Well, if you can bring yourself to suggest it, and wish it,
I need have no objection. Never mind me, mother. Besides, I shall be
from home. Yes, I do believe it will be a good plan."

"I thought, Harry," said Mrs. Jardine, so tremulously that Harry felt
quite alarmed for his upright, obdurate mother, "as Mr. Crawfurd had
been so friendly in his intentions towards you--the only man who has
come forward with such a proposal and entreaty--isn't he, Harry?--that
two of the Miss Crawfurds might consent to pay us a visit at last. I
believe they would waive all ceremony, and their father would like it.
It would show that we were willing, at least, to be reconciled in our
evil day; that we appreciated their magnanimity; that we were not mean
as well as malicious, Harry."

Harry stared, "Mother," he said slowly, colouring violently, "are you
prepared for the consequences of inviting the Miss Crawfurds here, or
what do you mean?"

"I have counted the cost, Harry; I have written and sent away a note,
asking if Miss Joanna and one of her sisters will have so much
consideration for an old afflicted woman."

Harry burst away from her, that she might not read the glow which was in
his eyes and searched through his whole being.

Mrs. Jardine cried a little, as a woman might say, quietly and
comfortably; a strange thing for her, since she was one of those women
who shed vehement tears or none at all; then she dried her eyes and
folded her hands reverently, saying, "I have a strange sense of calm
and of Divine favour this morning. I am sure I am not mystical, but one
jogs along the beaten way, and gets stupified, and doubts whether one
can be a Christian or no, there is