"I meant to tell you--it has passed from my mind, in the thought of the travel. He has been killed--how, or for what reason, I have not asked. I have written to Isabel Sutherland to come home. I cannot trust her without natural guard or helper, her lane in the midst of strangers. She is a light-headed, vain, undutiful girl--I know her of old--and farther shame must not come upon the house, Gowan, if it is in my power to ward it off. If she will not come, I have made up my mind--I will go, and bring her home." "Go!" exclaimed Anne. "To England?--you are not able for the journey." "Hold your peace, child! I am able for whatever is needful, as every mortal is, that has a right will to try. It's my hope Archie Sutherland is in a fair way of recovering his good fame and healthful spirit. If Isabel is in peril, it is deadly and beyond remedy--for the sake of the fuil herself (she bears Isabel Balfour's name and outward resemblance,) and for the sake of Archie, I am bound to do my endeavor, if it should be by the strong hand. Child, you may think me distrustful beyond what is needed. Maybe I am. She left her mother's sick-bed for the sake of a strange man. And when he was sent to a solitary place, she left him, also, for the sake of vanities. If you had done the like, I would have distrusted you." Anne could not realize the cause of distrust. She deprecated, and thought Mrs. Catherine's fears uncalled for--shrinking from the idea of danger to Isabel, almost as she would have done from any suspicion of herself. When she had seen Mrs. Catherine settled comfortably in her spacious and grand Edinburgh lodging, and the bustle of arrival fairly over, Anne, with her attendant Jacky, proceeded to Aberford. Miss Crankie and Mrs. Yammer were at tea. Their energetic little servant ushered Anne into the small parlor, looking out upon the green, in which they usually sat. They had blue cups and saucers of the venerable willow pattern, arranged above the red and yellow lady on the tray--a teapot, belonging to the same set, with a lid, the sole relic of a broken black one--a comfortable plate of tolerably thick bread-and-butter, and two or three saucers, containing various specimens of jellies. Mrs. Yammer sat languidly in a great, old elbow-chair. Miss Crankie was perched upon a low seat before the tray, making tea. Anne's entrance caused a commotion. There were a great many apologies, and expressions of wonder and pleasure at seeing her again; and then she was begged to take a seat, and a cup of tea. Anne sat down, and kindly looked out at the window, while Miss Crankie abstracted the lid from the teapot, and, from the depths of an adjoining cupboard, produced another one more resembling it in color.