about it!"

He took up the little sprays set ready for them, and putting one in his
own buttonhole, fastened the other in her bodice with a loving,
lingering touch.

"It's a good emblem," he said, kissing her--"Sweet Briar--sweet
Love!--not without thorns, which are the safety of the rose!"

A slow step sounded on the garden path, and they saw Helmsley
approaching, with the tiny "Charlie" running at his heels. Pausing on
the threshold of the open door, he looked at them with a questioning
smile.

"Well, did you see the sunset?" he asked, "Or only each other?"

Mary ran to him, and impulsively threw her arms about his neck.

"Oh David!" she said. "Dear old David! I am so happy!"

He was silent,--her gentle embrace almost unmanned him. He stretched out
a hand to Angus, who grasped it warmly.

"So it's all right!" he said, in a low voice that trembled a little.
"You've settled it together?"

"Yes--we've settled it, David!" Angus answered cheerily. "Give us your
blessing!"

"You have that--God knows you have that!"--and as Mary, in her usual
kindly way, took his hat and stick from him, keeping her arm through his
as he went to his accustomed chair by the fireside, he glanced at her
tenderly. "You have it with all my heart and soul, Mr. Reay!--and as for
this dear lady who is to be your wife, all I can say is that you have
won a treasure--yes, a treasure of goodness and sweetness and patience,
and most heavenly kindness----"

His voice failed him, and the quick tears sprang to Mary's eyes.

"Now, David, please stop!" she said, with a look between affection and
remonstrance. "You are a terrible flatterer! You mustn't spoil me."

"Nothing will spoil you!" he answered, quietly. "Nothing could spoil
you! All the joy in the world, all the prosperity in the world, could
not change your nature, my dear! Mr. Reay knows that as well as I
do,--and I'm sure he thanks God for it! You are all love and gentleness,
as a woman should be,--as all women would be if they were wise!"

He paused a moment, and then, raising himself a little more uprightly in
his chair, looked at them both earnestly.

"And now that you have made up your minds to share your lives together,"
he went on, "you must not think that I will be so selfish as to stay on
here and be a burden to you both. I should like to see you married, but
after that I will go away----"

"You will do nothing of the sort!" said Mary, dropping on her knees
beside him and