was no repulsion in Colin’s mind against his future profession. But now! He turned it over in his mind night and day in the interval between Matty’s departure and his own return to Ramore. What if, instead of a Scotch minister, incapable of promotion, and to whom ambition itself was unlawful, he were to address himself to the Bar, where there were at least chances and possibilities of fame? He was occupied with this question, to the exclusion of every other, as he crossed the loch in the little steamer, and landed on the pier near Ramore, where his young brothers met him, eager to carry his travelling-bag, and convey him home in triumph. Colin was aware that such a proposal on his part would occasion grievous disappointment at home, and he did not know how to introduce the subject, or disclose his wavering wishes. It was a wonderful relief, as well as confusion to him, when he entered the Ramore parlour, to find Lauderdale in possession of the second arm-chair, opposite the mistress’s, which was sacred to visitors. He had arrived only the evening before, having left Glasgow “for a holiday, like everybody else, in the saut-water season; the first I ever mind of having in my life,” he said, with a certain boyish satisfaction, stretching out his long limbs by the parlour fire. “It’s ower cauld to have much good of the water,” said the mistress; “the boat’s no laid up yet, waiting for Colin, but the weather’s awfu’ winterly--no to say soft,” she added, with a little sigh, “for its aye soft weather among the lochs, though we’ve had less rain than common this year.” And as the mistress spoke, the familiar, well-known rain came sweeping down over the hills. It had the usual effect upon the mind of the sensitive woman. “We maun take a’ the good we can of you, laddie,” she said, laying her kind hand on her boy’s shoulder, “it’s only a sight we get now in passing. He’s owre much thought of, and made of, to spend his time at hame,” the mistress added, turning, with a half-reproachful pride to Lauderdale; “I’ll be awfu’ sorry if the rain lasts, on your account. But, for myself, I could put up with a little soft weather, to see mair of Colin; no that I want him to stay at hame when he might be enjoying himself,” she continued, with a compunction. Soft weather on the Holy Loch signified rain and mist, and everything that was most discouraging to Mrs. Campbell’s soul, but she was ready to undergo anything the skies could inflict upon her, if fortified by the society of her son.