pen door--the
bells had begun again.

"A Happy New Year, Miss Mary!" said Angus, looking towards her from
where he stood on the threshold--"And to you, David!"

With an irrepressible movement of tenderness Helmsley raised his
trembling hands and laid them gently on Mary's head.

"Take an old man's blessing, my dear!" he said, softly, "And from a most
grateful heart!"

She caught his hands as he lifted them again from her brow, and kissed
them. There were tears in her eyes, but she brushed them quickly away.

"You talk just like father!" she said, smiling--"He was always grateful
for nothing!"

And rising from her kneeling attitude by Helmsley's chair, she went
again towards the open cottage door, holding out her two hands to Reay.
Looking at her as she approached he seemed to see in her some gracious
angel, advancing with all the best possibilities of life for him in her
sole power and gift.

"A Happy New Year, Mr. Reay! And success to the book!"

He clasped the hands she extended.

"If you wish success for it, success is bound to come!" he answered in a
low voice--"I believe in your good influence!"

She looked at him, and whatever answer rose to her lips was suddenly
silenced by the eloquence of his eyes. She coloured hotly, and then grew
very pale. They both stood on the threshold of the open door, silent and
strangely embarrassed, while the bells swung and clanged musically
through the frosty air, and the long low swish of the sea swept up like
a harmonious bass set to the silvery voice of the chimes. They little
guessed with what passionate hope, yearning, and affection, Helmsley
watched them standing there!--they little knew that on them the last
ambition of his life was set!--and that any discovery of sham or
falsehood in their natures would make cruel havoc of his dearest dreams!
They waited, looking out on the dark quiet space, and listening to the
rush of the stream till the clamour of the bells ceased again, and
sounded no more. In the deep stillness that followed Angus said softly--

"There's not a leaf left on the old sweetbriar bush now!"

"No,"--answered Mary, in the same soft tone--"But it will be the first
thing to bud with the spring."

"I've kept the little sprig you gave me,"--he added, apparently by way
of a casual after-thought.

"Have you?"

Silence fell again--and not another word passed between them save a
gentle "Good-night" when, the New Year having fully come in, they
part