“I waited in Fendie till they should arrange their letters,” said Mossgray, “that I might see if there was anything for Lilias, and I got what I desired, Helen. There are other things in this story which interest me greatly. I wonder--but we shall hear, no doubt, when this young man comes home.” The letter was a very brief one, written while he was still scarcely able to hold the pen, as the unsteady characters bore witness, and only assuring her that he was safe and out of danger, and whenever his wounds permitted, would hasten home. “Does he say nothing of--of the Englishman?” said Mossgray, anxiously, when Lilias came down to tell him. But the letter said nothing of any Englishman; the writer had been too feeble to write anything but the few words which told his safety, and that he was carefully tended--“in good hands.” CHAPTER XI. Open the lattice; let the fresh, soft air Bear in sweet Nature’s psalm; Draw the dim curtain quick--the sun is there, Holy and bright and calm-- And here a heart trembles for very gladness, Which yesternight fainted twixt hope and sadness. When Lilias awoke next morning, her heavy black dress was nowhere to be found. It had been put away out of sight, and a light muslin one was laid in its place. The Lily of Mossgray put on the happier garment with reverence, murmuring to herself psalms of thanksgiving. She had wakened so often to the blank of hopeless grief, that she felt now a solemn gravity in this new beginning of life; it seemed to her like the visible interposition of the Divine Hand--a miracle of joy. The blinds had been drawn up, and the morning sun looked brightly into the room. These little imaginative attentions could be rendered only by Helen, but Helen had left the room before Lilias awoke from the long, happy sleep of her new peace. In a room below Helen stood beside the old housekeeper. A great pile of white linen lay on the table before them, and Mrs Mense was exhausting herself in its praise. “Na, if ye had Mossgray’s ain muckle spyglass that sits up the stair at the study window, ye could scarce count the threads,” said the old woman, triumphantly; “it’s that fine; and ye see, Miss Buchanan, Mr Halbert’s no’ what ye could ca’ weel supplied, coming out from amang fremd folk, ye ken. I’ve been wanting to see about getting them made this lang time, only I didna like to fash the young lady; but Mossgray says I may speak to her noo. Do ye think I may speak to Miss Lilias noo, and no fash her, Miss Buchanan?” “What is it, Mrs Mense?” said Lilias, coming forward with a peaceful light upon her face which could not be misapprehended. The old woman glanced at her changed dress and brightened.