"I know you think me an old gossip! But in the wilds here we can't help taking an interest in our neighbours. And I would like to see the laird married again; he is not an old man, and he wants some one to brighten him up, and make him younger!" "I think he's having a good time over in Ireland," said Rowena. "Perhaps he'll bring back an Irish bride. He is in a house full of young people. Colonel Cavanagh has an old-fashioned family, five daughters and three boys, and three of his daughters have finished schooling and are at home." "I wish I had a daughter," said Mrs. Macintosh somewhat wistfully. "Robert is a good son to me, but his heart and soul are with his parishioners and his books; and I'm human enough to want a little, idle, frivolous talk sometimes. I have not the 'stability' of the Scotch nature." "Don't try to get it," said Rowena. "You and I must leaven these Scotch folk with a little seasonable froth." "Don't think I don't admire goodness," said Mrs. Macintosh hastily. "I do from the bottom of my heart. But a good person need not be dull." "No," said Rowena, in a more thoughtful tone; then she said abruptly: "I am having fresh aspirations this winter. I wonder if you will see any difference in me by the time the spring is here. I am very slowly going through a transformation. My outlook on life is altering, I am seeing everything from a different standpoint. Pardon my egotism, but tell me, what is your experience? Is life here an enigma to you, or have you the key to it?" Mrs. Macintosh's whole face softened at once. "I think I found the key long ago," she said. "Nothing is a puzzle, nothing is a mystery, if you have enough love and trust." "Ah," said Rowena, with a long-drawn breath, "and that is what I am slowly discovering." Mrs. Macintosh laid her hand very gently on the little red leather book that was never very far-away from Rowena's couch. "You are learning out of this," she said. Rowena nodded brightly. "It is a new book to me. I have never really studied it in my life before, and it's simply wonderful. It does what the other religious writings never do—it leads you straight to a Person Who becomes more real than anyone else in the world!" Then there was silence between them which Rowena broke. "So you see," she said gaily, "I can't be lonely or desolate; it is quite impossible. I have so much lost time to make up, so much to learn and discover." She did not often open her heart to anyone, and Mrs. Macintosh was touched by it. After this little talk, she and Rowena drew closer together. And Mrs. Macintosh tried to come over and see her as often as she could. Rowena had one or two letters from General Macdonald. Then, as December was drawing towards a close, she had one which much distressed her. "I have just been wired for. Mysie is dangerously ill of pneumonia. I leave to-morrow. Pray for her. Yours. HUGH MACDONALD."