While this episode was acting upon the sofa, Uncle Malcolm had raised the piano. "It has been tuned on purpose for ye, dear; now, sister Lindsay, I am going to gie ye a treat;" and the good man led Madeline to the instrument. "Scotch music first," said the host. "I know a great deal, Uncle Malcolm, for I learned it to please Roland." And Madeline threw out her whole soul that night, and poured forth such strains of melody as melted every heart--even old Lion drew closer to the instrument, looking wistfully in the face of the performer. Then came several fine sacred pieces, which particularly accorded with the tastes of the family at Graham Hall. After evening worship, Mrs. Lindsay led her guests to their room, for she perceived that they were wearied with their journey. "You have made great improvements, Mrs. Lindsay," said Roland, as he looked around. "Yes--Malcolm wad hae everything renewed; he went to London himsel', so that a' should be right." "He has made this a charming room, indeed," said Roland; "one would scarcely wish to leave it." "That is just what we should like, Roland, but we canna wish for sic' happiness; guid night,"--and she kissed the cheek of the young wife, and departed. In the freedom of the country, the three young people ran about with the gay spirits of childhood, searching out the fine points of picturesque views, and bringing in every variety of novel plant. Roland often laughed at Madeline's blunders, who, being unacquainted with Scotch vegetation, frequently gathered weeds for flowers. The purple tints of the Scotch heather met them everywhere, and Madeline could easily understand why it was so dear to Mrs. Bruce; for was it not almost the carpet of the Scotch highlands? Many were the pleasant excursions which Uncle Malcolm devised for their amusement--a visit to the old manse, and another to the kirk, where Madeline stood in silence with Roland, amidst the memories of his childhood. "We must see Jennie," said her husband; and the old woman, who now lived at the manse, was summoned to the parlor. "An' this is yer bonny bride, Roland! may she aye be a blessed wife! she's a bright young bird! wad na yer mither hae luved her weel?" "I am glad to see you at the manse, Jennie." "Yes, Roland--but the dear ones that made its sunshine, hae a' gane; an' a' that I can do is to remember." "You will meet them again, Jennie." "Yes, i' the land that's far awa', hinney--when this puir body hae done wi' cares an' toils, we shall a' rejoice together." "Here is something for you, Jennie; a warm winter dress; we remembered you on our way." "And I too," said the young wife, as she unrolled a soft tartan cloak. Jennie dropped a courtesy, as she said, "These are just what I wanted--it wad hae' been a lang time ere I could hae' bought the like; thank ye kindly, my bonny bairns."