‘Poor Liz!’ he said under his breath, as he uplifted his eyes to the clear sky, as if seeking to penetrate its mystery, and find whither that wayward soul had fled.

Gladys laid her soft cheek against his arm, and silence fell upon them again.  But the heart of each was full to the uttermost, and they asked no more.

It was, indeed, the world well lost for love.

* * * * *

On the morning of the ninth of October, this announcement appeared in the marriage list of the Glasgow Herald, and was read and discussed at many breakfast-tables:—­

’At Bourhill, Ayrshire, on the 8th instant, Walter Hepburn to Gladys Graham.’

It may be added that it was a source of profound wonder to many, and of awful chagrin to a few.  In the house of the Pollokshields’ Fordyces the announcement was discreetly tabooed, though George must have felt it keenly, seeing Gladys had suffered so little over the unhappy termination of their engagement that she could substitute another bridegroom though retaining the same marriage-day.

On the fourteenth the young couple set sail for the land of the Southern Cross, and were absent exactly twelve months, the reason for their return being that they wished their first-born child to see the light first in Bourhill.  And they never left it again; for Walter made use of the Colonial connection he had made to build up a new business in Glasgow, which has prospered far above his expectation.  So fortune has blessed him in the end, and he can admit now that the bitterness of the old days was not without its purpose.

The faithful Teen, no longer melancholy, reigns in a snug house of her own, not a hundred miles from Mauchline, but retains her old adoration for Bourhill and its bonnie, sweet mistress.

There are occasional comings and goings between the Bellairs Crescent Fordyces and Bourhill, and the family are united in approving the marriage of Gladys now, though they had their fling at it with the rest of the folk when it was a nine days’ wonder.  But that is the way of the world mostly, to go with the crowd, which jumps on a man when he is down, and gives him a kindly pat or a cringing salute, as may seem most advisable, when he is up.

But the wise man takes no account of such, pursuing his own path with integrity and perseverance, cherishing the tried friends, and keeping warm and close in his heart, like a dove in its nest, the love which, through sunshine and storm, remains unchanged.

* * * * *

Transcriber’s note:  Printer’s errors retained.