They sat together silently; the lamp was on the table; now and then the young mother rocked the cradle with her foot. It was perhaps the same impulse which made them wish to be together that held their lips, and kept them quiet, although side by side. For it was impossible that old memories should not be stirred to-night, connected with others as well as with themselves. The next day, which would witness the departure of Nat for new employment, would be the wedding-day of Alice Robson and of Tim. ‘They’ll have a fine day,’ said Annie, very softly--she had not spoken on the subject before, but she knew she would be understood--these were the first words that had passed between the brother and sister since their mother had left them and they had been alone. ‘I’m glad to think so, they’ve been so good and kind, such kind friends to us, though it will be different now. Tim came to see me last night. I was very glad to see him. He thought me altered, I know, for he looked so hard at me.’ Nat did not answer--it may be that he remembered why, on his part, he could not go to see the bride; it must have been shame that brought the colour to his face, for he had been pale and heavy-eyed before. But the feeling that his sister had been communicative, although she had always previously been more than reserved to him, stirred him with a sense of answering sympathy. He spoke with an effort, he had not spoken much that evening since he had come back from his visit to the Squire. Both his mother and sister had understood without difficulty why he should be silent with regard to that experience. ‘I’ve seen t’ Squire, Annie,’ he said now, with an effort. ‘It’s been very cutting. Ye know that I went to him? I’ve never seen him sin’ that last night o’ the year. He seems to be older, even in that little time. He said he was glad Mr Lee had given me learning, that Mr Lee had told him I should be a good business lad. And he wasn’t angry. He talked as if he was sorry--as he’d been more hasty nor he should ha’ been wi’ me. But I couldn’t answer him a bit, I was so afeard o’ crying--I think I’ve not felt so bad in all my life.’ Annie moved her chair in the least degree closer to him, whilst the glance of her dark eyes rested on his face, her eyes which had grown so large, and sad, and gentle, during all these months that she had been an invalid. He understood the movement, and after a while he went on speaking, with the manner of one who is relieved to be able to speak.