my life to show it, by making you happy —if
you will let me—— "

Sir Archie had not intended to say so much.
He stopped undecided whether it were generous
at this moment to go on. But already Hester's
courage was not proof against so much as had
been said. This was not the first time that Sir
Archie had so frightened her. She retreated
to the door, her eyes fixed as if fascinated on a
button of Sir Archie's coat. Her fingers felt
the handle of the door. She dropped a hurried
curtsey, and disappeared.

"Why are your cheeks so scarlet, child?"
asked Lady Helen, somewhat sharply, as Hester
gave her the book, in the tower room.

"Dear me, Helen!" said Miss Madge, "you
must expect that young things will run
themselves out of breath upon a staircase. When I
was a young thing I broke both my legs twice
with taking flying leaps down-stairs."

Lady Helen shrugged her shoulders. "My
good Madge," she said, " you were always an
exceptional creature. I hope Miss Cashel does
not take flying leaps down-stairs."

"No, indeed!" said Hester, so earnestly
that her ladyship laughed; which was a good
omen for the day. And the business of the
properties went on.

"I shall perform in this!" cried Miss Janet,
picking out a gown from a heap of strange
garments. " What a dainty piece of finery! I
shall play princess of the rebels, Queen of
Ireland in my own right. I shall order the King
of England to be brought before me in chains.
And I shall put my foot upon his neck!"

Miss Janet threw herself into an attitude
of mock defiance, holding the dress outspread
before her. Lady Helen shrieked, and sank
into a seat. The dress was a stiff white silk,
richly wrought and ornamented with shamrocks
in green, and with a green velvet train.

"Put it away!" cried Lady Helen. "Ah,
my dear Janet! let it be torn up and burned!
I wore it when the United Irish Society was in
favour. What greens and what shamrocks
were worn in those days! Let it be torn up
and burned, every shred of it, lest it cost us
our lives!"

"Poor gown!" said Miss Janet, coolly; "and
I vow it is a brave gown. Ah, I pray you,
Lady Helen, invite the king to dinner. I will
dine at his very elbow in this gown. And if
his majesty should make a remark I shall
modestly call his attention to the trees outside the
window. And I shall say, ' I wonder your
majesty does not indict the arch-rogue Nature for
high treason!'"

But Lady Helen had fainted by this time.
And in a scramble for smelling- bottles the
morning's work came to an end.

"I am in danger and difficulty.—The business
of my life shall be to make you happy, if
you will let me." Hester sewed all her seams
on the wrong side of her cloth, and stitched a
sleeve of one colour into a bodice of another.
It was not to be expected that her poor head
should be very clear this afternoon.
Nevertheless, though Lady Helen had given orders for
some harlequin costumes, it was also not to be
expected that she should be satisfied unless
some little method might appear to have been
employed in their contrivance. So Hester was
obliged to give up her work for the hour.

She put on her cloak and went down the
glen. It was close upon Christmas now, and
the frost crackled under her feet as she crossed
the old drawbridge over the dried-up moat. The
falls were bound up, and the air was quite still.
Grey furrows seamed the face of the heavens.
Sullen clouds, that looked as if bursting with
a secret evil portent, leaned their rough edges
on the frowning hills, and looked down the sad
valleys, as if expecting something. The cottage
doors were shut, partly from cold, and partly
from fear, and here and there a face, anxious
or grieved, looked out from a window to see
who was going past.

Hester walked for an hour, as fast as her
flying feet could carry her, through the bye-
ways of the hills, till she came in sight of the
village; and then she sat down to draw breath.
The openings of many glens lay under her eyes.
She could follow their windings and foldings
among the mountains, as they travelled on and
up towards the skies, wrapping them with
purple and amber, into their secret sombre
resting places. But Hester's face was towards
the village, and her eyes were on the chimneys
of one house.

"I will go to her," said Hester, " and I will
ask her what it means. I will tell her every
word, if I were to die of shame the next
minute!"

And so off Hester started again, nor paused
till she stood in Mrs. Hazeldean's parlour.

Mrs. Hazeldean was sitting sewing by her
fireside. A basket of bright flannels was at her
feet, and a garment made of the same was on
her knee. The sweet grave face looked as
busy with thought as her fingers were busy
with the needle. But there were no restless
cares nor nervous fears behind that face. No
solitude ever banished the tender look of lurking
joy from those eyes and lips, nor yet the
broad look of satisfied trust in a strength
unutterable that had not failed, nor could fail, to
furnish nerve for her right hand, and courage
for her heart. No sad days could shadow that
brow, but with a passing cloud. For the light
that shone upon it was a reflex from a sun that
knows no setting.

Mrs. Hazeldean was glad, surprised, to see
Hester come in; not quite satisfied with her
face. She thought the girl looked a little wild
and feverish. Had she walked too fast? Was
she cold, or hot? Why had she thought of coming
so far on such a day, or at least why had
she not come earlier? There would hardly be
time for her to get home before dusk. Mrs.
Hazeldean had removed Hester's hat, and
smoothed back with two fond hands the fair
locks a little blown astray by the mountain air;
and she had pulled off her gloves, and was