"It matters na, my bairn; I'm glad to hear sic a good account o' ye, Roland, at the college; there's a great wark before ye, my son, may ye live to do it weel." "Elsie," said Roland, "do you know anything about my father?" "I used to ken a' aboot him, Roland, in days lang syne, when we were baith young." "Do you know where he is now, Elsie?" "Why should ye ask sic a question, Roland? do ye na ken that the vessel in which he sailed was lost?" "I have heard so, Elsie; but strange thoughts have crossed my mind lately." "They are silly thoughts, Roland; ye maun think o' yer father as dead. Good-bye, Roland, I maun be awa'." Roland turned his steps again towards Woodcliff. This time he asked Effie to let him sit alone in the library for a few minutes. He turned over many volumes, which he knew Madeline was in the habit of reading, and in many a page he found her mark. Taking up a small portfolio which contained many scraps of paper, listlessly he sketched the sweet face as he first saw Madeline on the sea-shore with Harry, Charles, and the other children. Roland had cultivated his taste for drawing, and had made a striking pencil-sketch of the scene. Placing it almost unconsciously back in the portfolio, he left the room, and, crossing the hall, met Mr. Hamilton. "Why, Roland, I am rejoiced to see you. How greatly you have grown,--almost a man!" "Yes, sir; time makes changes." "How are you progressing at college, Roland?" "Very well, sir; there is one of our catalogues," handing one to Mr. Hamilton. "This is good news, Roland. I hope, my boy, that you will continue to reap such high honors. Stay, and dine with us, Roland." It was the first time that he had ever been invited to Woodcliff as a table-guest, and with a modest blush, he accepted the courtesy. It pleased him to find that Effie's place was also at the family table, and with the well-bred ease of a native gentleman, he took Mr. Hamilton quite by surprise. "Madeline would like to see you, Roland; she was at home last vacation, and has greatly improved; you would scarcely recognize little Mad-cap; she is so much more sober." "Does she sing as much as ever?" asked Roland. "Yes, her voice is splendid; she shall have the best masters that I can find, Roland. But do you know, boy, that I like the old ballads she used to sing, more than the opera-style, which is now so fashionable?" Before Roland took his leave, Mr. Hamilton sought a private opportunity to speak to him. "Is there anything that I can do for you, Roland?" He grasped Mr. Hamilton's hand warmly, as he answered, "I am already your debtor, sir; and found your gift of inestimable value." "You were kind to my little daughter, Roland; and I am always at your service." Roland bowed, and took his departure.