Mrs Oswald had just returned from the promised visit which completed the reconciliation. There was something painful in it, and in the renewal of the old friendship which had been so long and forcibly restrained. Few people, even though they are happy people, can look back upon the past without sadness, and grave thoughts were in the mind of the banker’s gentle wife. “You will get whatever is proper, Hope, my dear,” said Mrs Oswald. But Hope was very far from satisfied. “Whatever was proper” might not include the lilac satin frock, on which Hope had set her heart; so she left her mother, who was singularly silent and preöccupied, to discourse to the banker upon the marriage of Mrs Fendie’s eldest daughter, the Reverend Mrs Heavileigh, and the dress in which Adelaide made her public appearance as bridesmaid on that solemn occasion. Mr Oswald was more propitious than his wife. “You shall have your lilac satin frock, Hope,” said the banker, joyously rubbing his hands, “and anything else you like, for there’s not a Fendie of them all like either of you. You shall have your frock; and do you want anything else, Hope?” It was a considerable trial to Hope’s self-control. There were, indeed, various other things which she should have liked; for instance, Adelaide Fendie had just got a pair of resplendent bracelets; but Hope restrained herself. “Thank you, father, no--unless _you_ wanted me to get something else.” The banker laughed, and made a private memorandum. Hope’s modest subjection to the paternal wishes did her no harm. But the times were by no means ripe for the appearance of Hope’s magnificent official dress. She had to console herself with expectations and wait. The new year came and passed with its festivities. The strangers settled down in Murrayshaugh; already the old rooms there had grown less dreary, more home-like--but the jealous Isabell, who suspiciously watched every new article of furniture introduced into them, had not much reason to complain. Nothing out of place disturbed the aspect of those familiar rooms. The old state parlour, which had never been used within the memory of man, was to be refurnished, to do honour to “the young folk;” but the son and daughter of Murrayshaugh were content with their old apartments. A little less meagre than they were, the antique, grave sombre rooms were little changed. And when again the spring began to be spoken of by the softening breeze, preparations were made at Murrayshaugh and Mossgray, and under the roof of the banker Oswald. The young Hew Grant had been in Liverpool, where his business was. He was now coming home, and home too came William Oswald, who had taken a house in Edinburgh, and had been furnishing it, after the modest fashion which suited his means, with great enjoyment of the unusual business.