tated to her friend and patronized her, the most devoted of her admirers, and the most obedient of her servants, Mary could not at first understand and was rather inclined to resist, this, to her, harrowing measure, protracted over many days. But, 'Ah! let-abe, Mary dear,' Anne cried, it will be for the last time; it is my farewell. Don't look alarmed, my dear friend, I will come back after a while to Aldour for many a season, and we will have our walks, and rides, and works, and visits, and carpet dances very comfortably, but I will never more go near in the old spirit the clematis bower by the loch, or Spout Bahn, or the ash on the moor, or even the turf seat before old Ailie Kittoch's door.'

And strong, slow Mary comprehended that Anne went like Jephthah's daughter to mourn on the mountains before she died to the past and lived a new woman to the future. It was a final indulgence, not weak, though it was fond, and Mary saw that she had it to the full, and attended her loyally during its fulfil

ment.

The glen was in its glory; the sereness of the bracken was lending a world of rich straw colour, ruddy gold, and umber-brown tints, which made up for the paling purple flush of the heather; the nuts were dropping from their husks; the black brambles were still to be found in remote corners. Ash, oak, and wild cherry, the limes, plums, beeches, and chestnuts which the old lairds had planted here and there in their breaks of woodland, were brushed with russet,

and crimson, and copper, with orange and with scarlet, all turning up the dark green liveries of the sombre firs, and the crumbling earthiness and ashiness of the hawthorns and the birks, and when the sharp, clear air told on everything, brought the far frowning mountains near, and set in bold relief every bush and tree, when the robin redbreast trilled his late song, and the labourers brought into the barns their most forlorn sheaves of oats and rye, then few would have ventured to dispute that Aldour was fairer in its ripe maturity than in its spring; that as the sunset has a calm, majestic glory, which the glad dawn wants, so there is a spell in declining, dying nature, an ineffable, tranquil charm which we would do well to fathom.

6

Anne had trodden every locality sacred to her for ever-had not feared to face them steadily, and now she shut all their doors softly, and took leave of her kindred and went away, quite prosaically, mind, as to facts, in a post-chaise, favoured by the company of a respectable old Highlander bound for Hallowmass Fair. All travellers are not so fortunate in their adjuncts as Malcolm Macdonald, who went to London to be hanged, and returned in a post-chaise with Miss Flora Macdonald.' And Anne kept looking back and nodding over and over again her cheerful goodbyes, and calling, 'You will soon take a jaunt to see me, all of you; you will send my aunt the venison, Aldour, and I will remember all the patterns, dearest Mary.'

Mary wiped her eyes. She is an angel; we have entertained an angel unawares. How could I ever be so gross and dull to fancy that poor fellow John Dunglas too good a match for my dear cousin Anne Macdonald?

CHAPTER XIII.

MARY'S PERPLEXITY.

HE glens were white with winter.' Aldour was now a magnificent piece of goldsmith's work of frosted silver, now swept bleak and bare-a model of clay,

but still the simple cast of a grand design. The road to the Spout Bahn was well-nigh impassable to the hardiest foot, though it was sufficiently tempting with its glittering 'dead men's fingers' or pendants of icicles by way of girandoles, and its steaming breath feathering with fairy touches rock and tree. Dreary though it was, there was something very charming in Aldour under its still white mantle-a sleeping beauty while the snow lasted, and it lay long in those localities. The lochan was never solitary or sad; even when it was a thaw it was all a flutter with Northern water-birds of curious varieties that might have sailed round the masts of ancient mariners; you almost imagined that you would detect not only a snowy albatross, but a queer grotesque penguin in the number. Aldour had always plenty of work shooting these strangers, and even in that comparatively un

zoological age, sending them off to be stuffed, in order to be farther distributed among ornithological friends. When the weather was severe the greater part of the loch was so surely converted into muddled or transparent black or green ice, that it became a thoroughfare in whose favour the high road was deserted. No use for Aldour to talk himself hoarse about the springs; gentle and simple, young and old, neighbouring lairds and ladies, farm-servants and carriers, insisted on travelling by Loch Aldour; the very old wives seemed to come down from the hills for the express purpose of carrying some part of their kain, their flax, eggs, and nuts across the crystal pathway. A very picturesque thing it was tosee some of these fine old women, ('stately, erect, and self-satisfied, without a trace of the languor or coldness of age; they march . . . with gaudycoloured plaids fastened about their breasts with a silver brooch, like the full moon in size and shape. They have a peculiarly lively blue eye and a fair, fresh complexion. Round their heads is tied the very plain kerchief Mrs. Page alludes to when Falstaff tells her how well she would become a "Venetian tire," and on each cheek depends a silver lock, which is always cherished, and considered, not improperly, as a kind of decoration.) They steered mostly with great dignity and decision, but now and then they would grow bewildered, and, standing still in the middle, wave their sticks wildly and call shrilly for succour. Many a wilful cailliach Mary Aldour had hurried out to pioneer-once she had brought one to land with the