and there were a
few modest gatherings in the new house, and the hands of the two Shenacs
were full with the preparations, and with the arrangement of new
furniture, and making all things as they ought to be in the new house.

But in the midst of the pleasant bustle Hamish fell ill. It was not
much, they all thought--a cold only, which proved rather obstinate and
withstood all the mild attempts made with herb-drinks and applications
to remove it. But they were not alarmed about it. Even when the doctor
was sent for, even when he came again of his own accord, and yet again,
they were not much troubled. For Hamish had been so much better all the
winter. He had had no return of his old rheumatic pains. He would soon
be well again, they all said,--except himself; and he said nothing.
They were inclined to make light of his present illness, rejoicing that
he was no longer racked with the terrible pains that in former winters
had made his nights sleepless and his days a weariness. He suffered
now, especially at first, but not as he had suffered then.

All through March he kept his bed, and through April he kept his room;
but he was comfortable, comparatively--only weak, very weak. He could
read, and listen to reading, and enjoy the family conversation; and his
room became the place where, in the gloaming, all dropped in to have a
quiet time. This room had been called during the building of the house
"the mother's room," but when Hamish became ill it was fitted up for
him. It was a pleasant room, having a window which looked towards the
south over the finest fields of the farm, and one which looked west,
where the sun went down in glory, over miles and miles of unbroken
forest.

Even now, though years have passed since then, Shenac, shutting her
eyes, can see again the fair picture which that western window framed.
There is the mingling of gorgeous colours--gold, and crimson, and
purple, fading into paler tints above. There is the glory of the
illuminated forest, and on this side the long shadows of the trees upon
the hills. Within, there is the beautiful pale face, radiant with a
light which is not all reflected from the glory without--her brother's
dying face.

Now, when troubles come, when fightings without and fears within assail
her, when household cares make her weary, and the thought of guiding
wayward hearts and wandering feet makes her afraid, the remembrance of
this room comes back to her as the remem