Laura's mind was much relieved by her having settled this affair to her wish; and when the Doctor was gone, she sat down cheerfully to her drawing. Her meeting with Hargrave had lightened her heart of a load which had long weighed upon it more heavily than she was willing to allow; and, spite of poverty, she was cheerful. 'I have now only hunger and toil to endure,' thought she, smiling as gaily as if hunger and toil had been trifles; 'but light will be my labours, for by them I can in part pay back my debt of life to my dear kind father. I am no more forlorn and deserted, for he is come who is sunshine to Laura's soul. The cloud that darkened him has passed away, and he will brighten all my after life. Oh fondly beloved! with thee I would have been content to tread the humblest path; but, if we must climb the steeps, together we will court the breeze, together meet the storm. No time shall change the love I bear thee. Thy step, when feeble with age, shall still be music to Laura's ear. When the lustre of the melting eyes is quenched, when the auburn ringlet fades to silver, dearer shalt thou be to me than in all the pride of manly beauty. And when at last the dust shall cover us, one tree shall shelter our narrow beds, and the wind that fans the flowers upon thy grave, shall scatter their fallen leaves upon mine.' Casting these thoughts into the wild extempore measures which are familiar to the labourers of her native mountains,[A] Laura was singing them to one of the affecting melodies of her country, her sweet voice made more sweet by the magic of real tenderness, when the door opened, and Hargrave himself entered. [A] See Jamieson's Popular Ballads, Vol. ii, p. 558.