Even manse Donald himself seemed to know and love the way to Rowallan, for he fairly capered and whinnied with delight when he came in sight of the cosy homestead at the foot of its sheltering hill. It was indeed a sweet spot. The house was whitewashed, and built in a low, rambling style, with many a quaint gable and window, about which crept green and lovely creepers, as well as time-honoured honeysuckle and wild-rose. A little lawn in front sloped down to a broad swift-running stream, which had its being in the hill to the east of the house, and which danced merrily over its pebbly bed on its way to join the noble Clyde. In the stillness of the April evening its bosom was broken by many a circling eddy, where the lusty trout leaped up to catch the buzzing insects which hummed in the drowsy air. Catching sight of his aunt standing in the doorway, Gavin waved his cap, a salutation to which she replied by fluttering her white handkerchief in the breeze. And as if in response to a word from her, her husband joined her outside, and they came slowly along the path to meet the messenger. They were a goodly pair. Adam Hepburn stood six feet in his stockings, and his tall figure was well-built and splendidly proportioned, while his fine head, with its clustering, chestnut curls, was set firmly on his shoulders, giving the idea of strength and resolution as well as manly beauty. His face was sunny, open, and honest as the day; his keen, blue eye, with its humorous gleam, his firm yet tender mouth, redeemed the face from any harshness which the strongly-marked features might otherwise have given. His wife had fulfilled all the gentle promise of her girlhood. She was a sweet, shy, shrinking woman, such as makes the sunshine of home for one, but who is lost sight of in the busier ways of life. She was like the gentle lily-of-the-vale, breathing forth in her quiet life an unseen but exquisite perfume, which shed its influence on all around it. Of her husband’s strong, deep, yearning love for her I cannot write; it was the passion of his life, and she was indeed the very desire of his heart and the apple of his eye. And she loved him, if less demonstratively, as truly and tenderly as such women do.