"At the close of the third year, after Malcolm's loss, my father called me to him, and said: 'My daughter, I hae tried to be considerate and kind to ye; I hae placed nae compulsion upon your inclinations; now, I hae ane request to make; will ye not allow Stephen to renew his addresses? He is just as devoted to you as ever; he has luved ye faithfully for ten years, ever since yer childish days. If his devotion and worth can na overcome yer repugnance, or rather indifference, I hae nae mair to say; but it would please yer father if ye would allow him to renew his visits to ye personally.' "'Give me a week to think of it, father; that is all I ask.' "At the end of that time, I agreed to my father's proposal. I felt that all my love was in the deep ocean buried with Malcolm Graham, and that duty must henceforth rule my life; to please my father only, I consented. Stephen was very considerate, but I saw that the same devotion filled his heart. He was so anxious to please, so humble, so undemonstrative, that I could not but pity him. I treated him with kindness, and sometimes even with tenderness; then he was so grateful for the smallest act, that it touched my woman's heart. "At last, when in trembling tones he ventured once more to urge his suit, I did not discourage him; I simply told him to wait. "'Bless ye, Mary! e'en for that,' was the grateful answer. "At the close of the fourth year, I consented to become his wife. He wept in the fulness of his joy, and my father was happy; but the name of Malcolm Graham could never be mentioned in his presence. If by chance it was, dark frowns would lower on his brow, and it was at all times a forbidden subject. "He was a kind husband, and I tried to be a faithful wife; but in the twilight gloaming there were times when the memory of my cousin poured over my heart like a flood. "The next year after our marriage, you were sent, Roland, to form a new tie between us. You were a lovely babe, and your mother was proud of the sweet infant that smiled upon her from his cradle. "Stephen Bruce was a handsome man, Roland, and you were like him; the same profusion of dark hair, the same dark eyes; but there was always about you, Roland, an open frankness, that never characterized your father. He was constitutionally reserved and taciturn, often gloomy. "Our married life flowed smoothly along for two years. We lived at the manse; for my father could not part from his only daughter. He was very fond of little Roland, and the presence of a baby in the house was a sunbeam across his path. "One very stormy winter evening, I was rocking my little boy to sleep, singing some sweet cradle-song. The wind howled fearfully without, and the snow came down in heavy drifts. I heard a footstep on the little porch in front of the manse; it seemed to be a man knocking off the snow before entering.