Margaret's poems were no longer passionate, or even powerful. It has been said, and with a good deal of truth, that the grandest poem, like the sublimest music, springs from human wretchedness, but this applies to poetry set in a minor key. Margaret's husband gives another reason for her silence. The constant care and thought lavished upon every creature within her radius--she is one of the women who finds her truest happiness in giving it to others. Christie did not live long; she saw her beloved mistress installed in her old home, and died soon afterwards, happy now right was done. And Jean? Jean took every one by surprise, and married a hard-working, steady good mechanic at Renton. They all exclaimed when she announced her marriage, and Mrs. Dorriman said: "And you, Jean, who think it so dreadful to live near all that smoke, and found it so different to what you had been used to?" "Eh, ma'am," answered Jean, grinning from ear to ear, "it's no the place, it's the man!" THE END. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mrs. Dorriman, Volume 3 of 3, by Julie Bosville Chetwynd