"And I was at times shamefully angry with you," murmured Nell, penitent tears shining in her eyes. "I cannot blame you under the circumstances," he said, smiling tenderly upon her. "And this was the explanation of the rumors that reached us of some white woman, living among the Indians, giving testimony before the squire in regard to some matter of importance to you?" "Yes, it was Reumah Clark." And he went on to give a narrative of his interview with her, then to finish his story of the life at Glen Forest. The two remaining little ones older than Marian, had followed Angus to the better land in the course of a few months, leaving her sole inheritor--after her father--of that terrible curse. He described, in moving words, his own and the mother's anxiety for her, and for the wretched husband and father; the wife's life of devotion to him, the long years of fear and care, of untiring sympathy and love, of faith and submission; rewarded at last by seeing him pass peacefully away to another and happier existence, for he had gone trusting in a crucified and risen Saviour. Marian, still spared to them, was now their one great anxiety, but he was hopeful for her. She had stood some severe tests of late, and it might be, he trusted it was the case, that her mental powers and peculiarities were inherited from her mother's side of the house, or her father's paternal ancestors; all of whom were free from that dreaded taint. "We have endeavored, and thus far with success, to keep the fatal secret from her," he said, "deeming that her danger would be greatly enhanced by the knowledge. "She has long known there was a grievous thorn in the Clendenin nest, but what it is she does not know, and I trust never will. Her mother and I have also another innocent concealment from her. She still believes that I am her brother by right of birth; and we do not intend that she shall ever be undeceived." "No; it would be very cruel to rob her of the blessedness of believing that," Nell said, with the sweetest look in her beautiful eyes, "to be your sister would be the greatest happiness, except to--" But she stopped short, blushing and confused. "Except to be something far nearer and dearer? Ah, tell me that was what you were thinking," he whispered, his eyes shining, as he bent his head for a closer look into the sweet, blushing face. "Now, don't be too inquisitive, Dr. Clendenin," she said, in pretended vexation and pretty confusion. "Never mind the doctor," he returned gayly. "Kenneth is three syllables shorter and easier." "But not so respectful." "Quite sufficiently so, however. It is Marian's and my mother's name for me, and I hope will be my wife's also," he whispered. "Oh, dearest, how soon may I claim the right to call you by that sweetest of names?" "Ah, don't speak of that yet!" she said, hastily, her cheeks crimsoning, her eyes drooping.