sles of Shoals for a while, and I am
going to have you there."

"If I can be spared from home, dear Mrs. Wishart, it would be
delightful!"

CHAPTER VIII.

MRS. ARMADALE.

It was a few days later, but March yet, and a keen wind blowing from
the sea. A raw day out of doors; so much the more comfortable seemed
the good fire, and swept-up hearth, and gentle warmth filling the
farmhouse kitchen. The farmhouse was not very large, neither by
consequence was the kitchen; however, it was more than ordinarily
pleasant to look at, because it was not a servants' room; and so was
furnished not only for the work, but also for the habitation of the
family, who made it in winter almost exclusively their abiding-place.
The floor was covered with a thick, gay rag carpet; a settee sofa
looked inviting with its bright chintz hangings; rocking chairs, well
cushioned, were in number and variety; and a basket of work here, and a
pretty lamp there, spoke of ease and quiet occupation. One person only
sat there, in the best easy-chair, at the hearth corner; beside her a
little table with a large book upon it and a roll of knitting. She was
not reading nor working just now; waiting, perhaps, or thinking, with
hands folded in her lap. By the look of the hands they had done many a
job of hard work in their day; by the look of the face and air of the
person, one could see that the hard work was over. The hands were bony,
thin, enlarged at the joints, so as age and long rough usage make them,
but quiet hands now; and the face was steady and calm, with no haste or
restlessness upon it any more, if ever there had been, but a very sweet
and gracious repose. It was a hard-featured countenance; it had never
been handsome; only the beauty of sense and character it had, and the
dignity of a well-lived life. Something more too; some thing of a more
noble calm than even the fairest retrospect can give; a more restful
repose than comes of mere cessation from labour; a deeper content than
has its ground in the actual present. She was a most reverent person,
to look at. Just now she was waiting for something, and listening; for
her ear caught the sound of a door, and then the tread of swift feet
coming down the stair, and then Lois entered upon the scene; evidently
fresh from her journey. She had been to her room to lay by her
wrappings and change her dress; she was in a dark stuff gown now, with
an enveloping white apron. She came up and kissed