“Certainly, my dear--whenever ye please,” said Miss Jean, though not without a catching of her breath; for who would look after the work, with herself so much out of the use of it, and the season still so _throng_? “Not to leave you--with so much in hand--why should I?” said Kirsteen, “it’s not as if it was for anybody but me. But so soon as can be: just the time to go and to come back.” “Oh, my dear young lady--whenever ye please, and for as long as ye please: but ye will come back?” Kirsteen smiled again faintly. “Oh, yes, I will come back--there will be nothing more, no fighting nor battles--nothing to stop me--and nobody--to wait for me”--she added, “as I would have been content to wait--I was very content--just to think he was coming--some time. But that’s over--just an old story. It is time to shut up the house and go to our beds.” “Oh, my darlin’ bairn! Dinna shut it all up like that. Tell me about it--or if you will not tell me, oh, dear Miss Kirsteen, let the tears flow!” “My eyes are dry and so is my throat, Miss Jean, I cannot speak--I cannot cry--I’m not one for telling---- Good-night--I will just go away to my bed.” She lighted her candle which threw a strange new light upon her colourless face, and the rings of hair upon her milk-white forehead out of which nothing could take the colour. Kirsteen’s face even now had not the meekness and patience of a saint, but her hair was like an aureole round her wan countenance. She was going out of the room without saying any more, when she suddenly bethought herself, and coming back went up to Miss Jean, and kissed her--a very unusual ceremony between these two shy Scotswomen. The old lady coloured to the edge of her grey hair with pleasure and surprise. “Oh, Miss Kirsteen,” she said-- “You are very kind--you are just a mother. You are like my Marg’ret,” Kirsteen said. That name brought a rush of tears to her eyes for the first time. Marg’ret alone in all the world would know--Marg’ret would not need to be told. If she could lay her head on Marg’ret’s shoulder then her heart might break in peace. She had to bind it up now with bands of iron--for there was nobody in the world save him and her and Marg’ret that knew.