Keith’s, that the perpetrator of the evil had the least right of any one to murmur that her own monopoly of her sister was interfered with; that she was selfish, unkind, envious; that she had only to hate herself and pray for strength to bear the punishment, without alloying Ermine’s happiness while it lasted.  How it could be so bright Alison knew not, but so it was she recognised by every tone of the voice, by every smile on the lip, by even the upright vigour with which Ermine sat in her chair and undertook Rachel’s tasks of needlework.

And yet, when the visitor rose at last to go, Alison was almost unwilling to be alone with her sister, and have that power of sympathy put to the test by those clear eyes that were wont to see her through and through.  She went with Rachel to the door, and stood taking a last instruction, hearing it not at all, but answering, and relieved by the delay, hardly knowing whether to be glad or not that when she returned Rose was leaning on the arm of her aunt’s chair with the most eager face.  But Rose was to be no protection, for what was passing between her and her aunt?

“O auntie, I am go glad he is coming back.  He is just like the picture you drew of Robert Bruce for me.  And he is so kind.  I never saw any gentleman speak to you in such:  a nice soft voice.”

Alison had no difficulty in smiling as Ermine stroked the child’s hair, kissed her, and looked up with an arch, blushing, glittering face that could not have been brighter those long twelve years ago.

And then Rose turned round, impatient to tell her other aunt her story.  “O aunt Ailie, we have had such a gentleman here, with a great brown beard like a picture.  And he is papa’s old friend, and kissed me because I am papa’s little girl, and I do like him so very much.  I went where I could look at him in the garden, when you sent me out, aunt Ermine.”

“You did, you monkey?” said Ermine, laughing, and blushing again.  “What will you do if I send you out next time?  No, I won’t then, my dear, for all the time, I should like you to see him and know him.”

“Only, if you want to talk of anything very particular,” observed Rose.

“I don’t think I need ask many questions,” said Alison, smiling being happily made very easy to her.  “Dear Ermine, I see you are perfectly satisfied—­”

“O Ailie, that is no word for it!  Not only himself, but to find him loving Rose for her father’s sake, undoubting of him through all.  Ailie, the thankfulness of it is more than one can bear.”

“And he is the same?” said Alison.

“The same—­no, not the same.  It is more, better, or I am able to feel it more.  It was just like the morrow of the day he walked down the lane with me and gathered honeysuckles, only the night between has been a very, very strange time.”

“I hope the interruption did not come very soon.”

“I thought it was directly, but it could not have been so soon, since you are come home.  We had just had time to tell what we most wanted to know, and I know a little more of what he is.  I feel as if it were not only Colin again, but ten times Colin.  O Ailie, it must be a little bit like the meetings in heaven!”