"Would it not be better, Uncle Malcolm, to settle my mother's estate before I leave Scotland? I should like to dispose of it, for my future home will be in America." "I will attend to all that, Roland; I have taken charge o' a' ever syne the death o' your kindred; indeed, it is sold already." Uncle Malcolm did not then tell Roland that he was himself the purchaser, and had given a higher price than any stranger would have done. In a short time, all was arranged; Roland received a handsome price, and old Jennie Scott was sorely distressed at the thought of a stranger in the old manse. "Dinna trouble yourself, Jennie," was Malcolm's word of comfort; "it will be the manse still, a guid minister shall abide there, and Jennie shall be the woman o' a' wark there yet." She kissed Malcolm's hand,--"Ye're a guid an' faithfu' mon, Mr. Graham, an' God will bless ye evermair." The time of parting had arrived--Roland was grieved to leave the dear shelter of Graham Hall, for it was indeed to him a home, and its master a kind and generous father. Mrs. Lindsay, too, had been like a dear mother, and little Annot clung around him, and cried at parting with "dear Cousin Roland." Edmund could not leave the dear home-circle of Graham Hall without deep regret; and as he bade a sorrowful farewell to artless Annot Lindsay, and held her little hand fondly within his own, he whispered, "I shall come again, Annot, and then we shall have the pleasant walks and rides once more." She dropped her sweet eyes on the ground, then raising them to Edmund's face, swimming in tears, she replied, "I shall miss ye, Mr. Norris, so vera, vera much; but ye'll come again, an' I'll learn so mony new songs just for ye, an' nane ither." Annot stood at the window looking at the carriage as it turned away; and ere it vanished out of sight, a familiar face smiled at her from the back of the carriage, and a hand waved a last farewell, that she knew was Edmund's. Soon in London, Malcolm took lodgings for himself, Mrs. Douglass, and his young friends; and many pleasant visits did they pay together among the homes of the destitute; and many useful hints were given by the wise and faithful friend to Roland and Edmund. Riding out one day, Mr. Graham perceived a carriage passing close by their side. It contained two ladies, one remarkable for her beauty. She looked startled, blushed, smiled, waved her hand, and was gone. Roland was deeply agitated, "Who was that, Roland?" inquired his friend. "That was Madeline Hamilton, Uncle Malcolm," and Roland dropped his eyes beneath the earnest look of his friend. "Ye never told me that she was in London, Roland." "No, Uncle Malcolm, I did not." "And why, my son, may I ask?" "I am not on terms of intimacy with Miss Hamilton now." "How is that, Roland?" "She does not belong to my world, Uncle Malcolm; so her relatives think." Uncle Malcolm bit his lip, as he replied slowly, "Does Madeline think sae, Roland?"