tan's most dangerous and deadly devices) found herself looking on at this game, which, after a little preliminary instruction as to the names and values of the cards, she managed to understand in a fashion. And not only was there no apparent wickedness, but she found herself equally amused and interested. In the very first hand it fell to her aunt's lot to hold the ten of trumps; and the various efforts made by the other players to seize this treasure Alison was sharp enough to guess at. What she did not know was that Ludovick Macdonell, who had a suspicion as to where the Ten lay, intentionally and good-naturedly sacrificed his chance of capturing it by prematurely throwing away his Jack-to Aunt Gilchrist's exuberant joy and triumph-for ultimately she won the game. This evening Alison kept out-pleading her ignorance; but she was a reasonable and even a clear-headed kind of creature, when she was withdrawn from certain surroundings and influences; and she could not, for the life of her, make out wherein lay the harm of this simple pastime. For the rest, a great cheerfulness and frankness and good-humor prevailed in the little circle; it was astonishing how quickly the time went by; she was quite startled and sorry when Captain Ludovick, at the end of a game, rose and said he must really bid them good-night and be off to his hotel. Indeed she was disappointed: he seemed to belong to this household; she would rather he could have remained until the family party finally broke up.

As he was saying good-by, and when he came to her, he took her hand for a second.

"I hope you will be pleased with your stay in Lochaber," he said.

"Ludovick," Miss Flora interposed, "you are not going back to Oyre just yet?"

“Oh no,” he said, "not for a few days. I have some business that will keep me in the town."

"That's all right," said she at once, "for you can neglect your business, and come and help me to show Alison some of the places about. Hugh won't be bothered with us girls, so we shall have to depend on you."

"I'm sure I shall be delighted," said the young man; and then he bade them a general farewell again, and went out into the night which was all throbbing with stars, above the black shadows of the hills.

CHAPTER III.

IN A CALDRON OF THE HILLS.

ALISON did not sleep much that night; she lay awake thinking of these kind people among whom she had come, of their frank and pleasant ways, their good-natured banter of each other, their affection, and their obvious desire that she should feel herself at home among them. And as for the only one of them who was a stranger to her-Captain Macdonell-she was resolved to place herself on very friendly terms with him, if he also was willing. From the "Ludovick" and "Flora" of their mode of address, and from his general footing in the house, it was clear to her that Captain Macdonell was her cousin's accepted lover; so that she—that is, Alison-could extend towards him a kind of sisterly familiarity without fear; and, besides, Flora would be pleased to find that her choice was thought much of and approved. That was one point. Then again she bethought her as to how she could manage to convince her aunt that it was not any hope of inheriting money that had brought her away from Kirk o' Shields, or induced her to obey similar previous summonses. That she was to inherit Aunt Gilchrist's money was quite freely spoken of, by the old lady among the rest; and indeed Alison was not thinking much of herself in the matter; she was mostly anxious that none of them should imagine that her father had any mercenary end in view in consenting to these visits. But how was she to show her own independence, or his indifference? If Aunt Gilchrist had been a purse-proud, overbearing woman, Alison could have faced her in battle-royal, and cut and slashed in scorn, and gone proudly home. But to face Aunt Gilchrist! She was the most whimsical of odd little tyrants. When she lashed, it was with a laugh. Her deadliest quarrels with her brother—had only the tormenting of him for their aim. And as regards Alison herself, her treatment of "the bit lady" (except for an occasional snap when a sharper twinge than usual shot through her ankles) was just goodness itself. No, she could find no pretext for fighting Aunt Gilchrist; but the reflection was not a painful

one; and it was with a pleased and dazed sense that under this roof there reigned a great good-will and content, and mutual and general kindness, that at last she fell asleep.

It

In her dreams she was back again in Kirk o' Shields. seemed to her that she was lying awake in her own small room. Black night was all around, save for the lurid flames that shot up into the startled sky. She hardly dared stir or breathe, for might not her sister be listening for that strange visitant-the pale mother who would come and stand by the bedside-smiling and benignant-scen and yet unsubstantial, heard and yet voiceless and noiseless? Was that a moan or wail coming from the room close by in which the servants slept? and was the poor creature Margaret, unable to close her eyes, torturing herself with thoughts of her eternal doom? This seemed to be a terrible night, so long, so sombre, so hopeless. For what was there to look forward to? The morning would but bring her the sight of a thousand chimneys vomiting smoke and fire into the surcharged and heavy air; bedraggled women, tired of face, and with shawls sheltering their head from the rain, would be trudg ing silent to their work; poor little brats, barefooted, would be making their way along the miry streets to school. Then all day long the clash and din and thud of engines; the air becoming thicker and thicker with poisonous fumes; the dusk coming on prematurely, and the flames of the furnaces showing redder and redder through the gathering darkness. Is it time for the books now? It is enough to make one's heart bleed to hear this poor woman praising the Lord for all His goodness to her, and to know that she is looking forward to an eternity of punishment. But soon she will have retired for the night; and may a merciful Heaven grant her some brief spell of forgetfulness-this poor Margaret, with the saddened eyes! Or is it only His beloved to whom He giveth sleep? For those others—the hapless lost ones -for them the worm that dieth not, and the fire that shall not be quenched.

Alison awoke with a cry. But what was this? Black night was no longer around her, with lowering skies and lurid flames; Kirk o' Shields had vanished; the solitary window of this neat, small room had grown to be of a beautiful, pale, bluish-gray. The dawn had come, silent and mystical. A flood of joy and peace and gratitude filled her heart; the day before her had no

further dread for her; the fair world would once more be shining all around her, a gladness and a wonder to her eyes. Nay, even now, before any in the house were up, might she not make assurance doubly sure that all these visions and terrors were fled, and the new, calm day arrived, with its beneficent beauty and stillness? She stealthily rose, and got hold of a light travelling cloak, which she flung round her shoulders; then she went to the window and removed the small muslin sash, and drew a chair into the embrasure, and sate down there. She seemed to hold her breath as she looked forth. The night was gone, but the day was not yet here; all things looked ghostly and pale and strange; the motionless waters of the lake, the wooded hills, the wan heavens themselves were as if they slept as if they had slept, even as they were now, since creation's morn. Nothing stirred; there was not a sound. On the calm bosom the water the darkgreen fir-woods of the opposite shore and the pale lilac heights above them were faithfully reflected-except where some long and shallow banks showed in orange sea-weed above the surface. A small scarlet object far away floated double on this liquid plain; she guessed that it might be a buoy to mark the steamers' course. A faint mist that hung about the woods appeared to be lessening that was the only sign of change, and of the slow progress of the hours.

off

But as she sate there alone, and more than content, a transformation was taking place that at first she did not perceive. There was no archangel's trump to declare the daybreak; it came all so silently; the hill-tops had been touched by the rosy light ere she was aware. And then she looked up. Above the dark-green woods, above the purple slopes and shoulders, the far-receding summits were bathed in a faint ethereal crimson, and the heavens overhead were of gold. The whole world seemed to grow warm

er.

There were intermingling colors on the wide waters of the lake. What was this sudden cry, too, startling the silence? A sea-swallow had struck down upon that glassy plain, emerging with its prey in its beak; its companions came screaming and dipping and flashing around it. The new day broadened and descended from the hills; the sunlight fell upon the fir-woods opposite; far away in the north a small red object, leaving a brown trail behind it, began to move slowly along: was that the great steamer, with its scarlet funnels, coming south? She heard

sounds below; the household was stirring. And then she stole quickly back to bed again, lest her cousin Flora should come to seek her; but her closed eyes still beheld the beauty and the majesty and the wistfulness of that silent dawn, that seemed to have belonged to herself alone.

And it was Flora, as it chanced, who first came to call her; the young lady appearing at the door of the room with a telegram in her hand.

"Look at this now, Alison; was there ever anything so unfortunate!" said she (and it was only when she was excited or unusually emphatic that a trace of Highland accent was heard in her speech: she said, "Was there effer anything so unfhortunate!")

Then it turned out that certain friends from the south had telegraphed that they would reach Ballachulish that afternoon, on their way to Tyndrum next day; and that they hoped Flora and Hugh would come down and spend the evening with them. They were almost bound to go, Flora explained; but how could she leave her cousin just as she had arrived? Alison assured her that she need have no scruple. What was a single day? Besides, it was her-Alison's-place to remain with her aunt, and try to amuse her a little; she would have plenty of occupation till the two cousins returned from Ballachulish.

But Aunt Gilchrist was of a different mind, when, the brother and sister being ready to start for the steamer, Alison proposed to remain in the house and help her aunt with her sewing, or read to her, or otherwise wait on her.

"Read to me!" exclaimed the old lady, who had been peevishly grumbling all through breakfast-time. "Do ye want your head snapped off? If they fools o' doctors cannot get this wretched thing out o' my old bones-or nerves, or muscles, or whatever it is why should you suffer, you stupid creature? Do ye want to be torn in bits?"

"I'm not afraid, Aunt Gilchrist," said Alison, with a smileand when she smiled she showed she had exceedingly pretty teeth, as Flora noticed.

"Go away!" continued the old lady, with a sour face. "Go down to the quay with Hugh and Flora, and see them leave; then be off by yourself, and keep out o' my reach till the afternoon: I've not taken a drop o' their poisonous iodides this morning, so