rried! No, Jack, I came here to take care of your mother and sister,
because it was through me they lost you. Your poor mother had no one to
nurse her, and I have been so happy here. The children love me, I
think; and as to Tim, he is a very good fellow, and takes me as a
sister.' She did not add how often the said Tim had asked her to marry
him, nor how many other suitors had in vain tried to win her favour.

'And Betty, then, is the fine lady. The woman at the farm told me it was
_you_ who had married the Squire.'

A cloud of sadness passed over Bryda's face as that name was mentioned.

'Betty is not a fine lady,' she said; 'she is still the same dear
unselfish Betty she ever was. She is very happy, and David Bayfield is a
good husband. Betty is the mistress of Rock House, and the gentry all
around respect her, for she never takes airs on herself--she is far, far
above that.'

'I never knew he was alive till an hour ago,' Jack said, with a deep
sigh; 'it is a burden lifted, it is a chain loosed from my neck--that it
is, Bryda.'

Bryda's beautiful eyes were full of tears.

'Yes, dear,' she said gently, 'I know how great the relief must be. And
now, Jack, let us forget the sad past. The Squire, David Bayfield, is
not a strong man, and cannot hunt or ride to cover, but he has done much
for the estate, and Bet and he are good to the poor, and kind--how
kind--to the sad and sorrowful. Now I must go and tell your mother I
have heard of you.'

'But first--first, Bryda, tell me, can you love me? It is too much to
ask, I know; but I have made money out in America, and if you can care
for a stupid fellow like me--you are so clever and so beautiful. Oh,
Bryda, can you care for me at last?'

'I think I can, Jack,' she said, with a sweet smile. 'Ten years of
separation have taught me many things, and one is--' He put his arm
round her and drew her towards him. 'And one is,' she whispered, 'that I
have always loved you, and that, though you never knew it, I should
never, never have married any man but you.'

Sweet were the mutual happiness and thankfulness of that May day to Jack
Henderson and Bryda; and as they sat for a few blissful minutes in the
arbour, which had been Mrs Henderson's pride in earlier days, Bryda
said,--

'All through these long years I have never lost hope, and although, as
poor Chatterton said, "She did seem to take her high flight, shrouded in
mist, and with her blinded eyes," I always knew I shou