"Sit by me, George," said the man, as he drew the child next to him, and continued, "shall I gie him some o' these cakes, Mrs. Antrim?" "Yes, Robert, but not many." "Where hae ye been a' this week, my little mon? ye hae na' been to see auld Robert ance." "I have been sick, Robert, and grandma would not let me go out." The boy was about ten years did, the age that Roland was when his father had disappeared, and had the same dark eyes and hair. The man smoothed the dark hair as he said, "He is just like ane I luve, Mrs. Antrim." Mrs. Douglass could scarcely control her feelings, and finding that her food was almost choking her, she arose hastily, and left the room. "Where has the strange woman gane, Mrs. Antrim? Did I frighten her awa'? What does she wear that bonnet for?" "She has had weak eyes, and is not very well, Robert." "I heard her speak aince, Mrs. Antrim; I think that I hae heard the voice afore; let me see," and he placed his finger upon his lip, as he continued, "I can na' remember, but I hae heard it somewhere." He left soon after tea, and Mrs. Douglass, deeply agitated, declared that it was her lost brother. "What do you want to do, Mrs. Douglass?" "To tak' him hame wi' me to Scotland; our property can na' be settled until he gaes." "I fear that you will have great trouble before you can do this." Several visits were paid, but still no progress towards acquaintance; at last one day, he said suddenly to Mrs. Antrim, "Is that a Quaker lady? She seems very quiet, not ane o' the clattering kind o' women. I hae twa books which I ken would please her,--the lives o' George Fox an' William Penn; I wonder if she would come up to my little cottage." This was wonderful for Robert Duncan, but he seemed to regard the quiet lady with a sort of pity. Mrs. Antrim communicated the news to Mrs. Douglass, and with many charges to conceal her emotion, they walked up to the humble home. It had but two rooms, very plainly furnished--on one side of his sleeping-room hung a shelf of books. "Will ye sit doon, ma'am?" said Robert to the Quaker lady, and bringing the volumes spoken of, he continued, "I thought that ye might like these books, ma'am; wud ye like to read them?" Mrs. Douglass replied, in a low tone; "If thee will lend them to me, Robert." He tried to look under her bonnet, as he said, "It is vera like her voice." "Whose voice, Robert?" asked Mrs. Antrim "It dinna matter, ma'am, it can na' be; for she is far awa'." While they were looking over the other books, two pictures fell out from between the leaves of one. It was but a glance--but it was Mary Gordon's face, and Roland's when a lovely child. Mrs. Douglass was thrown off her guard; she seized the pictures. "Where did ye get these, Robert Duncan?" and the man, alarmed, gathered up the pictures, and hurried off into the next room. Before they left the cottage, he came back, and with the suspicious glance of returning insanity, said,--