But Mossgray began to behold festivities within its quiet walls; and great was the interest and expectation among the invited guests, from Mrs Maxwell, of Firthside, painfully selecting from her Georgina’s abundant wardrobe, the dress which would best become her, to Mrs Buchanan, in her little palour, deliberating long and carefully over that one black silk gown of Helen’s. It was so very unusual, that all were curious about the long-suspended hospitalities of Mossgray. In the little household itself there was some degree of excitement as they assembled in the drawing-room to await their guests. Lilias, with her mourning dress more studied than usual, looked almost as pale as when she first came to Mossgray, and sat in her ordinary seat, so serene and calm in appearance, even though her pulse did own a little acceleration, that the young joyous Halbert compared her in his fancy to one of those fair spirits of the air, nearer humanity than angels are, whose eyes are yet so much clearer than ours, as to unseen woes and perils, that men always paint them sad. Yet Lilias was not sad: the stillness of grief grown tranquil did indeed still temper all her feelings, but there were warm and pleasant hopes no less swelling in the even current of her mind. Only with these hopes the strangers about to be gathered round her had little sympathy and no concern, and involuntarily, with that quick instinct which makes us feel most solitary in a crowd, the thoughts of Lilias had travelled far away, and were dwelling with one who laboured alone in a strange country over the sea. Very different were the feelings of the young betrothed of Menie Monikie; but if Halbert was by no means intense, he was very honest. He had written to Menie, proclaiming his anticipated enjoyment of this same festivity, and promising a faithful record of it, and having thus done all that was needful for the absent, he stood before the cheerful fire in great spirits, listening for the first sound of wheels, and exceedingly satisfied with his position. The Laird of Mossgray sat at some little distance from the younger members of his family, and seemed to be busied with a book. He was not reading however; he was observing their different looks and feelings, and thinking of the strange conclusion which their presence in his house put to his solitary and recluse life. Both he had determined to keep at a distance from him; both had been shut out, by his grave and deliberate resolution, from his presence and his affection; and yet both were here. Secretly the old man smiled at himself, and at the trustful nature which now was too old to learn suspicion; secretly smiled at the vanity of those brittle barriers called resolutions, with which men stem, or try to stem, the tide of nature--resolutions made to be broken; and in his kindly philosophy he shook his head at his yielding self, and smiled.