And so it was--one heart, but not a heart at ease; the love-renewed still owned a pang of terror. But day after day came out of the softening heavens--hour after hour preached and expounded of the mellowed nature--the soul which had learned to forget itself; other pictures rose under Menie’s fingers--faces which looked you bravely in the face--eyes that forgot to doubt and criticise. The clouds cleared from her firmament in gusts and rapid evolutions, as before these brisk October winds. One fear followed another, falling like the autumn leaves; a warmer atmosphere crept into the cottage, a brighter sunshine filled its homely rooms. Day by day, advancing steadily, the son drew farther in, to his domestic place. The mother gave her welcome heartily; the daughter, saying nothing, felt the more; and no one said a word of grumbling, save perverse Jenny, who wept with joy the while, when another year and another life lighted up into natural gladness the sweet harmonious quiet of Menie Laurie’s heart. THE END. PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Quiet Heart, by Margaret Oliphant