"Dear, dear me!" she said—and there were tears trickling down her face—"the fine gentleman he has grown! And we were all saying that long ago—we were all saying that—but who could have told?—so fine and handsome he has grown up as a man!—Ay, ay, I made sure it was young Donald himself, when he came on board, but he was not looking my way——" "Would you like to speak to Mr. Ross?" said Mary, in the same gentle fashion. Then the little white-haired old woman turned to this tall and beautiful young creature who was addressing her; and a curious, wondering, and glad light shone through her tears. "You, mem," said she, timidly—"perhaps you are his good lady, mem?" Mary’s face flushed. "I hardly know Mr. Ross," said she coldly. "But if you wish to see him, I will fetch him—or send for him—" "Mem," said the old dame, piteously, and the tears were now running freely down her face, "I have come all the way from Canada, just—just to have one look at young Donald—that—that was the lamb of my heart! My two boys, mem, they were thinking I should go and pay a visit to their uncle, who is in Sacramento; and they are very good boys: one of them—one of them would have gone as far with me as Detroit, and put me safe there on the line; but—but I said to them, if there is so much money to be spent, and if your old mother can go travelling anywhere, well, then, it is just away back to Lochgarra I am going, to see the young master once again before I die. But no, mem," she said, somewhat anxiously, "I do not wish to speak to him, in case he is not remembering me. I will wait a little. Maybe he will be remembering me, and maybe not—it is sixteen years since I left this place—and he was just ten, then—but such a young gentleman as you never saw, mem!—and the love of every one! And I will just wait and see, mem—perhaps he is not remembering me at all—but that is no matter—I will go back to my boys and tell them I saw the young master, and him grown to be such a fine gentleman—it is all I was coming here for—ay, and I knew it was young Donald the moment I saw him—but—but maybe he is not remembering me——" "Oh, but indeed you must speak to him!" said Mary. "I will go and fetch him myself." For at this moment the steamer was making preparations to be off again—there being little traffic at Lochgarra. The bell was rung, but merely as a matter of form; there was no passenger going on board. Donald Ross bade good-bye to the captain, and stepped ashore. The gangway was withdrawn. Then the captain signalled down to the engine-room; the blades of the screw began to churn up the clear green water into seething foam; and the great steamer was slowly moving out to sea again. "Mr. Ross," said Mary (and he turned round in quick surprise) "there is some one here who wishes to speak to you." He looked towards the old dame who was standing there in piteous expectancy—went up to her—and, after a moment of scrutiny and hesitation, said— "Why, surely you are Ann!"