Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of David’s life.  But though there were no outward changes, there was a very important inward one.  About sixteen months after Donald’s departure he returned to visit Christine.  James, at Christine’s urgent request, absented himself during this visit; but when he next called at David’s, he perceived at once that all was not as had been anticipated.  David had little to say about him; Christine looked paler and sadder than ever.  Neither quite understood why.  There had been no visible break with Donald, but both father and daughter felt that he had drifted far away from them and their humble, pious life.  Donald had lost the child’s heart he had brought with him from the mountains; he was ambitious of honors, and eager after worldly pleasures and advantages.  He had become more gravely handsome, and he talked more sensibly to David; but David liked him less.

After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James’ heart, and he waited and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was sure that Donald was gradually deserting Christine.

She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering.  The little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that she frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while David and he were quietly talking at the fireside.

One Sabbath, two years after Donald’s departure, James met David coming out of church alone.  He could only say, “I hope Christine is well.”

“Had she been well, she had been wi’ me; thou kens that, James.”

“I might have done so.  Christine is never absent from God’s house when it is open.”

“It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God’s house are forced to stay away, God himself asks after them.  I hae no doubt but what Christine has been visited.”

They walked on in silence until David’s house was in sight.  “I’m no caring for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn I hae something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day.”

CHAPTER V.

The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, “Come wi’ me to McLellan’s, James, and hae a mutton pie, it’s near by lunch-time.”  While they were eating it David said, “Donald McFarlane is to be wedded next month.  He’s making a grand marriage.”

James bit his lip, but said nothing.

“He’s spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o’ the Lords o’ Session; she’s his sole heiress, and that will mean L50,000, foreby the bonnie place and lands o’ Ellenshawe.”

“And Christine?”

“Dinna look that way, man.  Christine is content; she kens weel enough she isna like her cousin.”

“God be thanked she is not.  Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall say words that will make more suffering than you can dream off.  Go away, man.”