“The houses at Maidlin must stand for a time,” said Martha. “You will think me weak, Mr. Charteris, but I cannot abandon even them; and we must try to find a place for John, and to sell the carriage and the horses. We will keep the gig which the old Laird of Allenders left, and Mysie--” Martha stopped, with white lips and a strong shiver. She was about to say, that Mysie, like many other country girls, could drive; but just then there occurred to her the time when Mysie made trial of her skill, through the darkness of that Hallowe’en night, and for a moment she was silent. “It will do for Agnes; all the rest of us are strong,” resumed Martha, with a voice that sounded harshly. “I think I can undertake that the house itself will cost the land nothing; and Armstrong is good and honest, and only wants some one to _bid_ him do what he knows is necessary to be done; I can undertake that, too, I think. He was here yesterday. See what our calculations were, Mr. Charteris.” Charteris took the paper and read. Though not in the ordinary business form, it was a statement of expenses for a year, including the interest to Miss Jean, and Harry’s other creditor. He asked to keep it, and she permitted him. Cuthbert began to be very sanguine; he thought he saw now where to find the money to complete poor Harry’s experiment with the land. Then he rose to take his leave. “Can you not stay to-night? They will be disappointed,” said Martha. “We have seen very little of you, Mr. Charteris, since--since we came here; but pray stay to-night, and cheer these poor girls. I am perhaps too much occupied for them, poor things! and they are going with my uncle to Ayr. Stay and see them to-night, or you will disappoint them.” “Disappoint them? should I?” said Cuthbert, smiling faintly. “I stayed away because I thought myself very magnanimous and self-denying--perhaps it was only because my pride was wounded; but to disappoint them, or think I did, would be too great a pleasure--I must see them, to convince myself that I have not so much cause for pride.” And Cuthbert, in a little flush of growing hope and gladness, looked up into Martha’s face--Martha’s face, calm and unchangeable, full of the great still sorrow, for which half an hour ago he had himself wept, struck him like an accusation. He cast down his eyes in silence, and stood before her almost like a culprit; for the warm hopes and joys of the future looked selfish and small in the presence of this absorbed and quiet grief. Just then Mysie entered, and gave Martha a letter. As she opened it, a piece of paper fell to the ground. Cuthbert lifted it up; it was a note for fifty pounds. Martha ran over the note quickly, yet with perfectly collected attention; then, after a moment’s hesitation, she handed it to Cuthbert, and sat down at her desk to write. The letter was from Gilbert Allenders. “Madam,