One evening, strolling quietly along, her thoughts were dwelling sadly on the past, and with dread to the future; she had reached the spot where she sat on the day that she had first met Roland. For one minute she stood, and wiped away a silent tear. Then walking on, with her eyes bent upon the beach, she was conscious of nothing around her, until she reached the old man's cabin. What was her surprise upon entering to see Roland! He arose with a constrained manner, and said, "Miss Madeline, I heard that you were going to Europe, and I felt that I must bid you farewell. I have been here once before, but without success--when do you sail?" "In about a week, Mr. Bruce," was the answer. "Can I speak to you alone, Miss Hamilton?" and Roland offered his arm, and led her to the old rock, where they had so often sat in the careless days of childhood. "You are going to cross the wide ocean, Miss Madeline; will be introduced into new scenes, and will be exposed to the blandishments of the gay metropolis of England--do not forget your immortality; do not forget your early friend. I know that they will try to banish me from your memory; but Madeline, by all the tenderness of childhood's days, remember, if not me, remember all that I have told you--you cannot know the loneliness which I have suffered ever since Effie's death, and I cannot bear to think that you can ever forget me. I ask only your friendship, your prayers." Madeline's voice trembled as she asked, "Why is it that you come no more to Woodcliff? we should be so glad to see you." Roland smiled bitterly, as he replied, "Perhaps so, Madeline; but I have good reasons; you may know them some day. When you go to England, among the rest of your visits, do not forget the benevolent institutions; get all the information that you can; and when you return to America, you will be better prepared to follow out your plans for good; we shall have the pleasure then of knowing that although separated, we are co-workers for the same great end." They continued in such conversation for some time longer; at length the shadows of evening warned them that it was time to part. "Farewell, Madeline!" and Roland seized the little hand extended so frankly, pressing it tenderly between both of his own. "Farewell, Roland; be assured that I shall never forget you, and when I say this, I mean all that I say--God bless you, Roland, forever and ever; he will bring you back to Woodcliff to bless its people. I have never lost that faith, Roland." At the end of the lane which led to the shore, they parted; and as Madeline walked slowly up the road that led to the gate of her own home, turning back, she still saw Roland gazing after her, and waving his hand, as she vanished up the avenue. CHAPTER XXI. SEARCHING FOR SCOTTISH FRIENDS.