‘A happy one at least,’ said Mr. Lothian; ‘but it would be harder now to leave this life than ever it was before.’ ‘Well, well, there’s little likelihood,’ said the Dominie, with some impatience; ‘let us be thankful--you are as likely to live till a hundred as any man I know.’ But just then Isabel came hastily up and brushed past them almost running, as if in fear. ‘I thought I saw a man in the garden,’ she said, shedding, for the first time for ever so long, a few hasty tears. ‘My darling,’ cried the minister, starting up, ‘where?’ ‘Oh, down among the trees,’ she said, ‘down there--outside the garden wall. I saw the branches stir--and I thought----’ ‘But, my dear, any man that likes may be on the other side of the wall,’ said her husband: ‘why should that frighten you?’ And then Isabel dried her tears. ‘It was very foolish,’ she said, ‘I know it might be anybody; but it gave me a fright--as if he were going to jump over the wall and come in to us here.’ ‘And if he had?’ said the minister, smiling--till Isabel smiled too, seeing the absurdity of her alarm. But she watched anxiously when Mr. Lothian and the Dominie made the round of the garden. Of course, there was no man to be seen, and they went in and closed the windows, and talked very comfortably for an hour before they separated, with no more interest or solemnity. Mr. Lothian had to attend a meeting of Presbytery next day. This pleasant evening was the end of his holiday: and such a holiday as it had been--a poem in his life.