Anne comprehended what the "just naething" was, and, understanding the singular interest and delicate sympathy of this elfin attendant of hers, knew also how perfectly she was to be trusted. "Jacky," she said, "what I tell you, you will never tell again, I know: this gentleman who died last night was nearly connected with us--if Marget asks you any questions, you can tell her that; and my work is accomplished here--accomplished in sorrow and in hope. By-and-by my brother of whom you have heard, will come home I trust, in peace and honor, to his own house and lands.--The work we came here for is done." Jacky was tremulously proud, but she had yet another question. "And if ye please, Miss Anne--little Miss Lilie?" A radiant light came into Anne's eye. It was the first time she had dared to speak of the near relationships with which she now hoped to be surrounded. "Lilie is my niece--my brother's child--I believe and hope so, Jacky." Jacky's first impulse was to turn her back on Schole, and flee without a moment's delay to Oranside. She recollected herself, however; she only sat down on the mossy garden-path, and indulged in a fit of joyous crying--pride, and exultation, and affection, all contributing their part. "For I kent," said Jacky to herself, tremulously, when Anne was gone, "I aye kent she was like somebody--a' but the e'en--and it would be her mother's e'en!" But Jacky recollected her charge--recollected the solemn tenant who lay within those walls, and became graver. Marget was sitting in the kitchen when she entered, refreshing herself with a cup of tea. Their salutations were laconic enough. "Is that you, lass?" said Marget. "Yes, it's me," said Jacky. "Miss Anne said I was to come in and stay; and she'll be back soon hersel." "And wha's Miss Anne that's taking sae muckle fash wi' this puir afflicted family?" said Marget. "Are ye ony friend to us, lassie? or what gars your mistress and you come into our house, this gate?" "Miss Anne says Miss Lillie is a friend. I think it's maybe by ither friends being married, but I dinna ken--only that they're connected--Miss Anne said that." "And what do they ca' ye?" continued Marget. "They ca' me Jacobina Morison--I was christened that after my uncle--but I aye get Jacky at hame; and they ca' Miss Anne, Miss Ross, of Merkland." "She'll be frae the north country," said Marget. "I never heard o' ony Norland freends Miss Kirstin had. Onyway it maun be for love ony fremd person taks heed o' us--for it canna be for siller. They're a strange family. Ye see the breath was scarce out o' Maister Patrick, puir lamb--he was liker a bairn, than a man of years at ony time--when Miss Kirstin she gaed away. I saw your leddy seeking her--whaur she's gane, guid kens." "Did she ever do that before?" asked Jacky. "Eh, bless me, no: she was aye ower feared about _him_, puir man, wha has won out o' a' trouble this night. Maybe ye wad like to see him? He's a bonnie--"