All at once a vague feeling of uneasiness stole over him, a curious feeling that he was not alone; and yet he did not look around, for somehow it seemed that it was the spirit of his Mary still hovering in the air, seeking to comfort his grieving heart; and yet the strange feeling of her nearness was different from that emotion he had experienced when he in fancy had looked at her wistful face in the heart of the nodding rose. And suddenly he held his breath as the consciousness of her physical presence grew stronger and stronger upon him; his startled eyes fixed themselves upon the naked stem, swaying gently on the bush—he strained his ears to hear—he knew not what—he could not tell—a trembling seized his limbs—and when he heard a sweet, low voice call “Robert,” not from the slender stalk, but somewhere behind him, he gave no start of surprise. He told himself it—it—was only imagination—the great longing within him had—but there it was again—it could not be fancy—it—it must be—he turned slowly in the direction of the voice as if afraid to find naught but the empty room to mock him, for he had heard no sound to indicate a presence within the room. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and his dulled vision cleared, he saw just inside the door, standing with hands outstretched to him—a flesh and blood reality, but oh! so pitifully changed. He gave a gasping cry and sprang to clasp the swaying form close to his throbbing breast. Ah! the rapture of that meeting, the blissful joy which filled his aching heart and crowded out stern recollections from his memory, while all thoughts of the grim present, its bitter facts which faced him, the vain regrets, all—all were now forgotten. The lines of pain in his haggard face were smoothed out gently and deep peace settled upon their troubled souls. “Ah, Mary!” he breathed softly, breaking the sacred stillness. “Ye have come at last. Oh, it has been so long, dearie, so long, and I have wanted ye so much,” and he held her to his heart in a strong, jealous, passionate embrace, as if he could never part with her again on earth, but would shield her from even the shadow of death, that he saw stamped on her pale, pinched features, and which glowed in the haunting depths of her tired blue eyes. A smile of sadness passed quickly over her face like the sun that peeps through the sudden rift of a cloud. “Ye knew, laddie, I couldna’ go awa’ without seeing ye just once mair,” she whispered tenderly. A fit of coughing suddenly racked her slender frame. He led her weak and trembling to a chair and gently wiped away the beads of perspiration from her forehead, and for a moment she leaned up against him in utter exhaustion. Presently she smiled up in his anxious face and faintly thanked him. “Dinna’ be alarmed, dearie,” she faltered. “I’m aright noo,” and she bravely straightened up in her seat, but he would not release her altogether.