Captain Douglas had still something to say to Allison, and he came and sat down by the side of his wife.

"Have you heard from your brother lately? Do you know that I went to see him before I left America?"

"No," said Allison in surprise. "I have had no letter for a month and more. Was it by chance that you met in that great country?"

"Oh! no. When Mr Rainy told me of your decision, he also told me that you had a brother in America, and gave me his address. The place was not very faraway from the town where we were stationed, and I made up my mind to see him before I returned home. Mr Rainy could not tell me whether you had consulted with your brother or not, and I thought it was right for your sake as well as for my own, that I should see him and learn _his_ opinion of the matter."

"Well?" said Allison anxiously.

"Well, he answered me scornfully enough, at first, and told me I was welcome to take possession of a bad man's ill-gotten gains, and more angry words he added. But that was only at first. He had a friend with him who sent me away, and bade me come again in the morning. From him I heard something of the cause of your brother's anger against my uncle.

We were on better terms, your brother and I, before I left."

"And was he angry with me? I mean, was he angry that I was with your uncle at the end?"

"He did not speak of that. You must let me thank you for all you did for my uncle in his last days."

"Oh! no. You must not thank me. It was only my duty; I could not have done otherwise," said Allison. "And did Willie not speak of me at all?"

"Yes. He said that there was not in all Scotland another woman like his sister Allie, nor in America either."

Allison, smiled at that.

"And did he send no letter to me?"

"Yes, he sent a letter. I have it with me. No, I gave it to a friend, who said he would put it into your own hand."

"It was to your brother's friend that he gave the letter," said Mrs Esselmont in a whisper.

So when Allison came home to see a light in the parlour window, and a tall shadow moving back and forth upon the blind, she knew who was waiting for her there.

An hour later Robert Hume came to the house.

"Mistress Allison must have gone to the inn with Mrs Esselmont and her friends," said Mrs Robb, "and here has the poor lad been waiting for her in the parlour an hour and more. What can be keepin' her, think you? And I dinna just like to open the door."

Robert laughed. "Poor fellow, indeed!" said he. "I suppose we may at least knock and ask leave to open it."

They had seen each other already, but the hands of the two young men met in a clasp which said some things which neither would have cared to put into words for the other's hearing. Then Robert turned to Allison, who was sitting there "just as usual," he thought at first. But there was a look on her face, which neither he nor any one else had seen there till now.

"No. I am not going to sit down," said Robert. "But I promised my mother that I would write to-night, to tell her how it all ended, and I need my time."

"Ended! It is only beginning," said John.

"Robert," said Allison gravely, "does John ken?"

Robert laughed.

"There are few things that John doesna ken, I'm thinking. What I mean is this. How did old Rainy and you agree at last?"

"Yes, Allison, I ken," said John, as she turned to him, "and I say as you said: The end is as right as right can be."

"Were you there, John?" said Allison wondering.

"Surely, I was there as Captain Douglas' friend. He had a right to ask me, you see."

"You know him, John, and Miss Mary?"

"We sailed together, and I had seen Captain Douglas before that time."

"Yes, when he went to see my brother. A friend helped him, he told me, a friend of Willie's, and I knew it must be you."

John told something of the interview between them, and when a pause came, Robert, who had been standing all this time, said:

"There is just one thing more which I must tell my mother. When are you coming home to the manse? and--when is it to be?"

"You are a bold lad, Robin. _I_ have not dared to ask that yet," said John.

But when Robert was gone he asked it, and Allison was kind and let him "name the day."

"A week hence! But is not that very soon, considering all you have to do?"

"Oh, no! All that I have to do can be done after," said John. "Will it be too soon for you?"

Allison's modest "providing" had been growing under her own busy hands, during the brief leisure which her daily duties left her. It was all of the plainest and simplest, but it was sufficient in her esteem.

"Yes," said she after a moment's hesitation, "I can be ready, and-- whatever more you think I need--you will have to give me, John."

John laughed and kissed her hand. Then he said gravely:

"And, dear, I made a promise once, for you and for myself. I said, if this happy day should ever come, I would take my wife, first of all, to the manse of Kilgower--to get an old man's blessing."

Kilgower! At the name, a shadow of the old trouble fell on Allison's face--for the last time.

"I will go anywhere with you, John," said she.

The next day Allison went home to the manse--another "happy homecoming,"

as Marjorie called it,--though she was to be there only a little while.

There were few changes in the manse since the old days. There was a gleam of silver on the dark hair of the minister, and the face of the minister's wife showed a touch of care, now and then, when she fell into silence. But in the home there were cheerfulness and content, and a hopeful outlook as there had always been, and the peace which comes as the fulfilment of a promise which cannot be broken.

The boys had grown bigger and stronger, and they had three sisters now.

Jack was not at home. Jack was in the South learning to make steam engines, and when he had learned, he was going to America to make his fortune, like John Beaton. And so was Davie. Only Davie was to have land--a farm of a thousand acres. To America the thoughts and hopes of all the young people of the manse were turning, it seemed, and the thoughts of a good many in the town, as well.

John Beaton's success in the new country to which he had gone, was the theme of admiring discussion among the townsfolk, and when John came to Nethermuir, before the week was over, he found that all arrangements had been made for a lecture about America, which was to be delivered in the kirk. John saw at once that he could not refuse to speak. But it would be no _lecture_ that he could give, he declared. If any one had any questions to ask, he would answer them as well as he could. And this he did, to the general satisfaction.

As to his own success--yes, he had been successful in so far, that he had made a beginning. That was all he had done as yet. It was a beginning indeed, which gave him good reason for thankfulness and for hope.

"Oh! yes. America is a fine country. But after all, the chief thing is, that there is room for folk out there. When one comes to speak about success, courage and patience and strength and hard work are as necessary to ensure it there as they are here in Scotland. But there is this to be said. When a man's land is his own, and he kens that every stroke of his axe and every furrow of his plough is to tell to his own advantage, it makes a wonderful difference." And so on, to the pleasure and profit of all who heard it.

Allison did not hear the lecture, nor Marjorie. They were at Mrs Esselmont's. Marjorie enjoyed the visit and had much to say of it, when she came home. Allison did not enjoy it so well. She was a little doubtful as to how John would be pleased when he came to hear all. That was what troubled Allison,--that, and the fear that Mrs Esselmont and Mrs Douglas might see her trouble.