"And how can you bear to leave it all to come away with me--and to a foreign land, too?" She raised her face from her rosy bouquet and looked into his eyes. And Charles Stuart smiled, knowing he had said a very absurd thing indeed. They sat down under an overhanging willow, and talked of the days that were past, and the yet more interesting days to come. "I remember I used to discuss the possibility of my being a foreign missionary with Mother MacAllister," Elizabeth said, "in sun-bonnet days. But I did not think the dream would really come true." "I remember, too, that when your contemplation of unclothed heathen and boa-constrictors was too much for your courage, you used to remark despairingly that you supposed you would just stay at home and marry Charles Stuart." Elizabeth laughed. Her ideas concerned with marrying Charles Stuart had undergone a radical change in the past year. From the tower over the Martin woodshed a big bell clanged out a startling interruption. They sprang up, looking at each other guiltily. Auntie Jinit had threatened to so remind them of their duty if they remained too long at the creek. For such a pair for stravagin' over the fields as Lizzie and Charles Stuart, she declared she had never seen, and she was thankful Eppie wasn't given that way. They scrambled gayly up the bank. "They're ringing the wedding-bells already," cried Elizabeth. "There go Mary and Jean; they promised to set the tables--and brother Bone-Bagsley too--the dear! We must hurry." Nevertheless they still lingered. When they reached the top of the slope, they stood for a moment in the rosy sunlight and, with a common impulse, looked back. "It's almost a year ago," whispered Elizabeth. "Yes, almost a year," answered Charles Stuart. Down the bank past the mill, and up the opposite shore ran the little stony path they had so often trodden in schooldays. It crossed The Slash, now a trim clover-field, and disappeared into the cool depths of Forest Glen. But they could follow it still in imagination. It passed Eppie's old-new home they knew, went down the lane, skirted the highway, and curved round into the grassy churchyard where John lay. They turned at last and went up the lane together. There were tears in Elizabeth's eyes, but the words of a song were on her lips:-- "_And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, Steals on the ear the distant triumph song, And hearts are brave again and arias are strong, Hallelujah!_" THE END