Robert had secretly, in vehement shame and anger, pulled his indiscreet sister’s sleeve, and the result was, that the innocent Miss Insches turned suddenly round upon him, and revealed the artifice he had used to stay her disclosures. The Reverend Robert blushed to the very hair. Helen shrank back, shyly conscious. Mrs Whyte cast wicked, intelligent glances at the minister, and Miss Insches, seeing that something was wrong, and that she had blundered, looked about her in bewildered penitence. “Eh, Robert,” she repeated under her breath, “is’t me?” The Reverend Robert was too much annoyed to laugh, but Mrs Whyte did, as she came to the rescue. “I think when Paulus has his duty over to-morrow, that you and I must make some calls, Mr Insches. Miss Buchanan, will you introduce me to your mother; and may I venture, Miss Maxwell, to come as far as Mossgray?” Lilias answered for both. Miss Insches’ last master-stroke had entirely silenced Helen. Halbert all this time had been alone, or nearly so, and now Lilias perceived him at the other end of the room, patiently listening to Mrs Gray; so there was a general movement to rescue him. Halbert had felt rather _de trop_ this evening; he was almost inclined to chime in at first with the lamentations of the mournful lady; and it was a relief to all parties when Mr Insches changed places with the young heir of Mossgray. CHAPTER XIX. Through the earth there runs a sound Music of green nooks and hills, For Spring, soft-handed, frees the bound Rivers and sweet rills; Trickling, singing, from the fountains, All day long they cheer the mountains. So the warm streams of the heart Sometimes ’neath the ice grow chill, Till the Spring with kindly art Wakes the sleeping rill, And like the brooks, old loves, new flowing, Stir all fair things to happier growing. The spring sunshine began to dawn on the waiting world again. The gentle days prolonged themselves, lingering out in long, soft, poetic twilights. Lilias Maxwell had been nearly a year at Mossgray. And Halbert Graeme began to feel himself in great want of some outlet for his young activity. He said little now about the momentous matter which had brought him to Mossgray, and though he did sometimes complain in his letters to the North that the fortune which it was so very necessary to make was as far in the distance as ever, and that there seemed no prospect of being able to reach even the beginning, Halbert was by no means discontented; this genial country life was natural to him: he only wanted something to do; and after a considerable agitation he attained to that. Mossgray graciously permitted himself to be made an experimental farmer, and with great glee Halbert plunged into the desired labour.