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the heather-scented air, while looking upon a fair sweet face and bright blue eyes that gazed with innocent frankness upon him; but ere he could enjoy the purity, freshness, youthful health, and artless love, he awoke with a start to a hated reality. Life had become wearisome, companionship distasteful. Had Lady Ida Marchmoram accompanied her husband in any of his visits to his friend Auber, a fearful welcome might have awaited her: she would likely have encountered in Lucia her quondam companion and friend, the gipsy, Bella Norris.

Glenbenrough had erected an obelisk of white marble at the base of the Roua Pass, in commemoration of his daughter's escape. It pointed to the closed-up, gray old house, and through the tender green sprigs of the budding birches, the snow-white marble gleamed coldly; save when the slant rays of the sun at morning or evening lighted it up with golden glow, or shadows from the hill fell purpling o'er it. Glenbenrough had long delayed returning to his home, on account of a protracted paleness and languor which affected Esmé, and was attributed to the shock of her severe accident; but there was one who, during all this time, almost daily revisited the deserted house. On moonlight nights in summer, and in the fierce blasts of winter, the figure of Florh, wrapped in her shepherd's tartan plaid, might have been seen toiling up the ascent, with bowed head and lagging step. She would ofttimes stand, with outstretched arms, her gray, gleaming eyes seeking restlessly over the quiet house and silent landscape, and cry aloud,

"Ewen left his mother and his country for aye; but, oh! ere my days are spent, return, my ither dearer bairnsreturn, return!"

Poor Florh clung with the force of her strong nature to the ties and hope still left. The foster-mother's love was sufficient; though all maternal ambition was extinct, and her schemes had all been baffled: but even to her the time of consolation came at last.

It was in the autumn that Glenbenrough and his daughters returned home, after a visit to Norah's happy English home, whither they had gone purposely to welcome a little Yorkshire

grandson. Esmé now appeared quite restored to her pristine health, bloom, and strength. The shadow that had overcast her youthful spirit was but transient, and the returning sunshine appeared the more beautiful in its serenity; for out of this fiery trial of her passions, Esmé had come forth purified and strengthened. Calmly she now looked back upon her intercourse with Marchmoram as to a dream of fleeting and fallacious delight. She had awakened now: she saw clearly, and returned to the fresh life and quiet sunshine of homehappiness with renovated feelings, and a mind instructed by experience. Her accustomed duties were again revived; former habits and the old associations again held sway. Nor was it strange that one should be connected with them whose steadfastness had helped to support her, and with whom a sympathy had ever existed, even when striven against. In seeking to obliterate all traces of her misplaced passion, the manly virtues exemplified in Normal had always presented themselves to her mind: she could not think of the past without associations of him; and always in contrast with those she would banish,-painful, yet pleasurable too. His early unwavering love, so true and deep, yet to the last unavowed; and that noblest point of unselfishness which the letter evidenced, had come, heralding, as it were, the desertion of Marchmoram. If Normal were to return, she would show him that she had learned to prize his regard, and they would ever be friends again. And how was it with Normal? Time had been working well for him too. His first feelings, on hearing of Marchmoram's marriage and Esmé's consequent freedom, had been wild joy and a craving to return home; but those passed and graver thoughts succeeded. Why Marchmoram had not married Esmé, he did not then know; but he felt that, when he had left, in jealous dread of that result, he had been himself unworthy of her. He looked back upon his days of boyish sullenness and reserve and churlish pride; he reflected how narrow had been his views, and how untried and illdisciplined he was. If ever he returned, it must be as a man, and with different ideas and feelings; and under the influence of revived hopes of gaining Esmé's affections, the finer qualities of his nature developed themselves and broke through the crust of hardness and reserve. It was one sultry evening in the autumn that Esmé strolled to her spring. She had found that, during her absence, the cranberry branches had trailed over the ledge and shadowed the water, so that it was

necessary to prune them; and when she had done so, she still continued kneeling there, singing quietly that little Gaelic water song, "Foam, foam, foam, Essain.'

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Presently she stopped and sighed. What was it that sent a flush, deep as the red cranberry, mantling her cheeks and brow, as, the next instant, startled, she looked upwards? It was an echo of the refrain-a sigh breathed back. There, beside the holly tree, with tearful eyes lovingly, earnestly fixed upon her, stood Normal: his face, though sun-burnt, had paled with emotion, and his hazel eyes looked darker than when last they had met. He stood, seemingly waiting to know what kind of greeting awaited him; as if he feared to have his warm feelings chilled by a cold reception. After a momentary pause, Esmé bounded forward to meet him, extending her hands, with a cordial smile and an exclamation of delight. "Oh! Normal, Normal! dear Normal ! "

And as he caught her in his arms, he replied,

"Oh! Esmé darling, what a welcome is this!"

It was some time later when Esmé and Normal sought the house, where he received the surprise and joyous greetings of Glenbenrough and Ishbel. The early harvest moon had eclipsed the fading glories of sunset ere they had thought of returning. They rested in a little grassy nook near the spring, shut in with holly and honeysuckle, whence the view embraced the bends of the river for miles; and there they sat a long time together, enjoying pleasant communion as in past innocent days. And as Normal told of his long sojourn abroad, and Esmé questioned him on his weary illness, he held her hand in his, and she did not withdraw it. Now again there were very happy days at Glenbenrough; and the intercourse of Normal there was uninterrupted. Ishbel declared him improved in mind and manner and in personal beauty: she said he surpassed, in manliness and intelligence, any Highlander or Englishman she ever had known (Harold perhaps excepted, whom she most admired and loved). And Esmé silently thought how much improved he was: he looked matured and thoughtful. Though grave, there was a gentle, earnest lovingness about him; and he had become sensible and intellectual, as he had formerly been only brave and moody. Esmé noted that he kept a quiet, careful watch over her: he seemed to study her every wish, and at the same time he showed a guiding firmness that precluded any weak indulgence of idle fancies. Normal's character always had been strong; but it

was now a truly fine one. Experience of life, the active exertion of travel, and contact with men, had drawn forth and ripened all the good hidden seed of his moral nature, while they expanded his intellectual powers. His companionship was delightful to Esmé. With heart and hand they pursued together the healthy occupations of Highland life; and with heart and mind they at last sympathized with each other. The lessons of the past had corrected the faults of both; their trials had refined, expanded, and elevated two sterling and generous natures, as trials ennoble all such; and in the genial warmth of revived sympathies and re-kindled feelings of affection, the germs of all good qualities in each unfolded and sprung up, fructifying, in due time, in virtuous and happy lives. What need to record the union of Esmé and Normal? Suffice it to say, that Florh lived to see a happy group before the house at Glenbenrough a tall old man but slightly bent, the glance of his blue eye bright and genial as ever; a stalwart, handsome young man in his native Highland garb; a strongbuilt, stately Englishman, with two fair women close to them, and a dark-eyed, bright-faced girl seated beneath; all enjoying the summer evening, and listening to the singing of the birds and the sweet ringing voices of little Norahs and Esmés, disporting within sight of the heathery Roua Pass. Esmé and Normal, Norah and Harold, were happy in their marriages, as only in that state men and women can be who are united with congenial natures by the loving ties that bind. And Ishbel, grown tall and womanly, would probably some day make a like happy choice. Miss Christy would stop in her gaunt gambols with the children, to breathlessly exclaim,

"Hech, hech, Miss Ishbel! ye must mak' haste, afore I'll be too stiff to rampage wi' ye're bonny bairns!"

During the life of Glenbenrough, Esmé and Normal lived. in the old home with him; and, at his death, he bequeathed the property to Normal, who, he thought, being a Highlander, would best carry out the customs of olden times, and sustain the character of the chieftain. This was true: but Normal's son might not, perhaps, sustain it any better than Harold's would; for the march of modern improvement advances fast in the Highlands. Wheat is uprooting the heather. There are Highland lairds who speak with foreign accents, now-a-days;

and native-born Highland ladies who know not the names of the surrounding hills, and never attempt the climbing of them. Year by year the Highlanders are becoming more civilized, and more rapidly approaching to an equality, in manners, education and habits of life, with the rest of the world. Even since this story was begun, have a few more of the remaining links in the good old-fashioned chain of custom snapped asunder and fallen aside; but silken bands of suavity, entwined by graceful hands, will serve to bind strong arms and brave hearts, when the aim of each one is the common good of all. Time-honoured usages are dear to us for their associations with the past; and all that is good in their spirit may be revived, with fresh vigour and activity, in the improvements of an altered state of society. Nature can never lose its charms for those who delight to study them. And to such I may say that the only matter-of-fact truth in this book is the scenery: I have visited every hill and glen, each loch and stream, herein described.

THE END.

London: SMITH, ELDER & Co., Little Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey, E.C.

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