And Rose, in her own chamber, in a misty and bewildered confusion, seeing nothing distinctly either before or behind her, turns back at last to that one solemn fact, which never changes, and remembers Harry--remembers Harry, and weeps, out of a free heart which carries no burden into the unknown future, some sweet pensive tears for him and for the home she is to leave to-day; and so sits down in her bewilderment to wait for Martha’s summons, calling her to meet the great hour whose shadow lies between her and the skies. And Lettie’s flowers are on the table, breathing sweet, hopeful odours over the bridegroom and the bride. And Lettie, absorbed and silent, listens with a beating heart for some sign that Harry is here, and starts with a thrill of recognition when her heart imagines a passing sigh. Poor Harry! if he is not permitted to stand unseen among them, and witness this solemnity, he is present in their hearts. CHAPTER XXII. Behold I see the haven now at hand To which I mean my wearie course to bend. Vere the maine shete, and beare up with the land, The which afar is fairly to be kend, And seemeth safe from storms that may offend. FAERY QUEEN. AGNES, with her relieved and lightened spirits, goes cheerfully about her domestic business now, and has learned to drive the little old gig, and sometimes ventures as far as Stirling to make a purchase, and begins to grow a little less afraid of spending money. For some time now, Agnes has given up the “opening”--given it up at Martha’s special desire, and with very little reluctance, and no one does “opening” now at Allenders, except sometimes Martha herself, in her own room, when she is alone. These three years have paid Miss Jean’s thousand pounds, and one of Macalister’s four, and Mr. Macalister is very happy to leave the rest with Miss Allenders, who, when her fourth harvest comes, has promised to herself to pay Mr. Buchanan. For assiduous work, and Martha’s almost stern economy, have done wonders in these years; and the bold Armstrong boasts of his crops, and his cattle now, and is sometimes almost inclined to weep with Alexander, that there is no more unfruitful land to subjugate and reclaim. But before her fourth harvest time, Martha has intimated to Sir John Dunlop’s factor that it was her brother’s intention to make an offer for the little farm of Oatlands, now again tenantless, and Armstrong does not long weep over his fully attained success; though Oatlands has little reformation to do, compared with Allender Mains. And Harry’s model houses are rising at Maidlin Cross; sagacious people shake their heads, and say Miss Allenders is going too far, and is not prudent. She is not prudent, it is very true--she ventures to the very edge and utmost extent of lawful limits--but she has never ventured beyond that yet, nor ever failed.