I heard all this silently, and was thankful that Elspeth’s blind eyes could not see the burning flush of mortification that rose to my face.  The dear garrulous old body, how could she have put such a question to Mr. Hamilton? and yet how kindly he had answered!  A sudden recollection of Irish dark-gray eyes with black lashes came to my mind; I knew Mr. Hamilton was a connoisseur of beauty.  I had often heard him describe people, and point out their physical defects with the keenest criticism; he was singularly fastidious on this point; but, in spite of my humiliation, I was glad to know that he had spoken so gently.  He had told the truth simply, that was all:  at least he had owned I was true; I must content myself with this tribute to my honesty.

But it was some days before I could recall Elspeth’s words without a sensation of prickly heat:  it is strange how painfully these little pin-pricks to our vanity affect us.  I was angry with myself for remembering them, and yet they rankled, in spite of Elspeth’s quaint and homely consolation.  Alas!  I was not better than my fellows:  Ursula Garston was not the strong-minded woman that Miss Darrell called her.

But when I next met Mr. Hamilton I had other thoughts to engross me, for Elspeth was dying, and we were standing together by her bedside.  I had not sent for Mr. Hamilton, for I knew that he could do nothing more for her; but he had met one of the children in the village, and on hearing the end was approaching had come at once to render me any help in his power.  Perhaps he thought I should like to have him there.

Elspeth’s pinched wrinkled face brightened as she heard his voice.  ’Ay, doctor, I am glad to know you are there; you have been naught but kind to me all these years, and now, thanks to this bairn, I am dying like a lady.  The Lord bless you both! and He will,—­He will!’ with feeble earnestness.

I bent down and kissed her cold cheek.  ’Never mind us, Elspeth:  only tell us that all is well with you.  You are not afraid, dear granny?’

’What’s to fear, my bairn, with the Lord holding my hand?—­and He will not let go; ah no, He will never let go!  Ay, I have come to the dark river, but it will not do more than wet my feet.  I’ll be carried over, for I am old and weak,—­old and weak, my dearie.’  These were her last words, and half an hour afterwards the change came, and Elspeth’s sightless eyes were opened to the light of immortality.

That night I took up a little worn copy of the Pilgrim’s Progress that I had had from childhood, and opened it at a favourite passage, where Christian and his companion are talking with the shining ones as they went up towards the Celestial city, and I thought of Elspeth as I read it.  ‘You are going now,’ said they, ’to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the never-failing fruit thereof; and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity.  There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower regions, upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, and death, for the former things are passed away....