Jack noticed all these little details, and the gambols of two grey kittens in the porch, an old dog lying, with his nose on his paws, entirely regardless of his frisky neighbours. Presently a maid-servant brought out an easy-chair and a cushion, and was followed by two figures--his mother, leaning heavily on the arm of--Betty, her poor head shaking tremulously, and her querulous voice raised in some complaint about the position of the chair. Betty! But was it Betty? There had been many changes in ten years, but as Jack's eyes, shaded by his hand, examined the figure leaning over his mother's chair and gently arranging the cushions, his heart gave a great bound, and then seemed to stop beating. He clenched the gate for support, and knew that he was looking at his lost love--Bryda. The gate gave a sharp click as his heavy hand grasped it, and Bryda looked up. She came swiftly down the path and said,-- 'Can I do anything for you? You look--' Then, with a sudden radiance illuminating her beautiful face, she exclaimed, 'Jack, I am so glad!' Jack was still mastered by the strength of his emotion, and was speechless, his broad chest heaving, and the words he would have spoken refused to be uttered. Yes, it was Bryda. The girl had changed into the woman, but except an added sweetness and refinement in her face she was the idol of Jack's dreams. 'Come outside, please,' she said, laying her little hand on his and pushing open the gate. 'Your mother could not bear the shock of joy your return would give her. I must prepare her for it. Come round to the garden behind and sit down in the arbour. You look so ill, Jack, I must fetch you something.' He found his voice at last. 'Are you married, Bryda?' 'Married! Oh, no. I will tell you all if you will only come and rest. Married! No, Jack, I came here to take care of your mother and sister, because it was through me they lost you. Your poor mother had no one to nurse her, and I have been so happy here. The children love me, I think; and as to Tim, he is a very good fellow, and takes me as a sister.' She did not add how often the said Tim had asked her to marry him, nor how many other suitors had in vain tried to win her favour. 'And Betty, then, is the fine lady. The woman at the farm told me it was _you_ who had married the Squire.' A cloud of sadness passed over Bryda's face as that name was mentioned. 'Betty is not a fine lady,' she said; 'she is still the same dear unselfish Betty she ever was. She is very happy, and David Bayfield is a good husband. Betty is the mistress of Rock House, and the gentry all around respect her, for she never takes airs on herself--she is far, far above that.' 'I never knew he was alive till an hour ago,' Jack said, with a deep sigh; 'it is a burden lifted, it is a chain loosed from my neck--that it is, Bryda.' Bryda's beautiful eyes were full of tears.