, on neighbourly
thoughts intent, came up to the cottage, eager to hear all the news
concerning "old David"--but she found the kitchen deserted; and peeping
into the bedroom adjoining, saw Mary lying there fast asleep, with
Charlie curled up beside her.

"She's just dead beat and tired out for sure!" and Mrs. Twitt stole
softly away again on tip-toe. "'Twould be real cruel to wake her. I'll
put a bit on the kitchen fire to keep it going, and take myself off.
There's plenty of time to hear all the news to-morrow."

So, being left undisturbed, Mary slept on and on--and when she at last
awoke it was quite dark. Dark save for the glimmer of the moon which
shone with a white vividness through the lattice window--shedding on the
room something of the same ghostly light as on the night when Helmsley
died. She sat up, pressing her hands to her throbbing temples,--for a
moment she hardly knew where she was. Then, with a sudden rush of
recollection, she realised her surroundings--and smiled. She was one of
the richest women in the world!--and--without Angus--one of the poorest!

"But he does not need me so much as I need him!" she said aloud--"A man
has so many thing to live for; but a woman has only one--love!"

She rose from the bed, trembling a little. She thought she saw "old
David" standing near the door,--how pale and cold he seemed!--what a
sorrow there was in his eyes! She stretched out her arms to the fancied
phantom.

"Don't,--don't be unhappy, David dear!" she said--"You meant all for the
best--I know--I know! But even you, old as you were, tried to find some
one to care for you--and you see--surely in Heaven you see how hard it
is for me to have found that some one, and then to lose him! But you
must not grieve!--it will be all right!"

Mechanically she smoothed her tumbled hair--and taking up Charlie from
the bed where he was anxiously watching her, she went into the kitchen.
A small fire was burning low--and she lit the lamp and set it on the
table. A gust of wind rushed round the house, shaking the door and the
window, then swept away again with a plaintive cry,--and pausing to
listen, she heard the low, thunderous boom of the sea. Moving about
almost automatically, she prepared Charlie's supper and gave it to him,
and slipping a length of ribbon through his collar, tied him securely to
a chair. The little animal was intelligent enough to consider this an
unusual proceeding on her part--and as a consequence o