A little mirth, somewhat strange to look upon, was in Mrs Buchanan’s parlour when the minister’s sister left; for Helen laughed, and her laugh had a quivering sound, and tears were in her eyes; and Hope laughed because Helen did, and in triumph, with some perception that there were deeper feelings than mirth in those tears, and Mrs Buchanan smoothed her slightly ruffled brow, and smiled with them, thinking of the time when “Robert” was great and important in her eyes, as well as in those of his sister, as of a troublous, uneasy time, already far away and hidden in the past. The white dress was completed: they laid its spotless folds on the old sofa where the spring sunshine fell on it gently, and Hope Oswald laid two or three of those small fragrant, deep-blue violets which grew at the door, upon the bridal dress. Pure, simple, hopeful, marking the conclusion of the chequered youth, which, spent in toil and poverty, had yet been bright with the sunshine of heaven. Tenderly Hope Oswald decked it with her violets--gravely the mother looked on; this gentle grasp of joy brought a strange note of sadness out of the young heart and the old, sadness which made them more joyful, and showed that the happiness had reached the depths, and stirred the stillest waters there. And in her little room alone, Helen Buchanan paused at this new starting-point of life, to look upon its mercies which were past, its difficulties which were before her: and with tears upon her cheek, rendered the thanks and sought the strength which she owed and needed. A new beginning: to be loftier, purer, braver than it had ever been; and upon the great Ideal which she sought to reach, the light streamed full down from the skies. For it was not an ideal, but a resemblance; the human features of that wondrous Man, who has carried our nature to the throne of Heaven, and wears his universal crown upon a human brow. CHAPTER XVI. “Now draws he to the west, and noble clouds Near to his royal person all the day Attend him to his chamber. In his eye, His broad, full, fearless eye, no faint or chill Is visible; grandly and solemnly, As who hath well done work which shall remain, He marches to his rest. Lift up thy gorgeous curtains, thou great sky! That he may enter in. Fall back, O clouds! Where now he goeth, he must go alone.” “I did not think,” wrote Adam Graeme, as he took up the narrative he had concluded long ago, “that I should ever add more to this record; but strange things have happened with me, since in this quiet study of mine I recorded my resolutions here. My resolutions! I find no trace of them anywhere, except on this page which already begins to grow yellow, and fade into the guise of old age like its human neighbours. They are gone, like the winter ice into the bosom of our wan water, pleasantly melted under the sunshine, into the stream which gave them birth.