Agnes lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder. “Ah, yes, mother, that is comforting. I remember, too, that sometimes out of a sorrow comes joy, and I have you, mother dear, and that is so much.” But the days that followed were very weary ones; the world seemed to have lost its beauty. The thought of that empty little cabin in the wilderness would bring a pang to the girl’s heart, and each evening she would climb the hill at the sunset hour to live over the happy moments with which the spot was associated. The small store of books she carried to her room to be pored over, touched lingeringly, and treasured--for had not his hands held them? Had not his eyes dwelt on every page? Had he not followed the thought therein expressed? There was nothing that could have expressed so much or have brought such enduring association as these, and in time Agnes became so familiar with them that she could have repeated pages of Shakespeare’s plays, Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” Addison’s essays, or Spenser’s “Faerie Queene.” And when Archie came she quite astonished and pleased him by her learning. This young man’s coming was not delayed very long, for by midsummer he was in their midst, looking very much improved by his stay in a more civilized community. He made no delay in going to see Agnes, and eagerly asked at his first opportunity: “Are ye still heart-free, Agnes? Is there no one sitting up wi’ ye?” “No one, Archie,” she replied. “And there’s none o’ the lads hereabouts you like better than me? Ye’ve not forgotten, and ye still have the sixpence?” “I have it still, yes.” She ignored the first part of his speech. “Ah, weel, then.” Archie gave a sigh of satisfaction. He felt surer of his ground. He had been somewhat disturbed on Parker Willett’s account, but Jeanie had reassured him by telling him that Parker had left the neighborhood. “Jist persevere, Archie,” she said. “It’s slow and steady wins the race.” Nevertheless, he felt that somehow there was a change in Agnes; she was more thoughtful and gentle, and less free with him than she had been. He approved of the thoughtfulness and gentleness, and attributed the fact of her diffidence to her feeling more conscious in his presence now that she was older. Archie was quite a self-satisfied person, and was not disposed to underrate himself, especially since he had been at his grandfather’s. He had observed the deference paid to the “meenister,” and felt himself quite in the position to accept all the consideration due to the cloth. “It’s not to be wondered at that she is impressed by the knowledge I’m gainin’,” he told himself, “and she’s beginning to see that it’s a high position in the world she’ll be having.” But one fatal day Agnes undeceived him, and he groped for some time in a pit of humility which he had digged for himself.