From the study, they passed into his mother's room. There stood the cradle, and the rocking-chair, in which she had sat, to nurse her babes. Jennie took up her apron to wipe her old eyes as she said,-- "How mony times hae I seen Mary Gordon, when she thought naebody saw her, weep owre the cradle, as she rocked her babes to sleep; but she was a guid woman, Roland, an' a true an' faithful wife. Is yer father living, my son?" "That is a hard question to answer, Jennie; it has always been said that he was lost at sea, but strange things have happened to make me sometimes think he may yet be alive." "He was aye a sad an' gloomy mon, Roland; I sud na wonder if he were crazed at last." "Can you tell me anything about Malcolm Graham, Jennie? I must see him soon." "He lives aboot twenty miles frae here, up on the side o' the mountain; he is called far an' nigh 'guid Uncle Malcolm;' he only lives to do guid, Roland; he has charge o' a' your property, an' can tell ye a' that ye need." The place where they stood was full of sad memories, and the longer he remained, the more familiar he became. "Why here, Jennie, is the very wheel-barrow that Uncle Alick brought me all the way from Edinburgh; many a time have I filled it with pebbles, and emptied them into the lake," and Roland picked up the toy, and regarded it tenderly, even as an old friend. "Let us go now, Jennie, for I must make some preparations to visit Uncle Malcolm." "Ye maun gang amang some o' your grandfather's people first, Roland; they wud be sair grieved if ye gang awa' without seeing them." "I will stay over the Sabbath, Jennie, if you can keep me at your little cottage, for I want to go to the old kirk, where my mother worshipped God." The weeds in the little garden around the house, and the neglected look of the grounds, spoke volumes to Roland's heart of the dear ones who had vanished from the old manse, and of the busy hands now silent in the grave. "What is that, Jennie?" said Roland, as he observed a little mound under an old tree, with a piece of board at the head. "Read the words, Roland, an' ye'll see what lies buried there." "Here lies old Shep, the faithful dog; for twelve years he served his master." "I remember him, Jennie; many a time has he carried me on his back." "This auld place is fu' o' death, Roland, but it is just as fu' o' hope; for a' wha hae gane before, hae died the death o' the righteous; an' they a' sleep in the Lord." Roland spent the days between this and the Sabbath in rambling about, and in company with old Jennie visiting his grandfather's parishioners. They all expressed great joy on seeing the young man, and observed universally the likeness to his father. "But he has nane o' the gloom," said the old sexton; "he has the same black hair an' dark e'en, but the look is a' upward an' bright, as if he walked wi' his grandfather's God."