“I believe it is so with you,” said Alison, scarcely able to keep the tears from her eyes.

“After sometimes not daring to dwell on him, and then only venturing because I thought he must be dead, to have him back again with the same looks, only deeper—­to find that he clung to those weeks so long ago, and, above all, that there was not one cloud, one doubt about the troubles—­Oh, it is too, too much.”

Ermine lent back with clasped hands.  She was like one weary with happiness, and lain to rest in the sense of newly-won peace.  She said little more that evening, and if spoken to, seemed like one wakened out of a dream, so that more than once she laughed at herself, begged her sister’s pardon, and said that it seemed to her that she could not hear anything for the one glad voice that rang in her ear, “Colin is come home.”  That was sufficient for her, no need for any other sympathy, felt Alison, with another of those pangs crushed down.  Then wonder came—­whether Ermine could really contemplate the future, or if it were absolutely lost in the present?

Colonel Keith went back to be seized by Conrade and Francis, and walked off to the pony inspection, the two boys, on either side of him, communicating to him the great grievance of living in a poky place like this, where nobody had ever been in the army, nor had a bit of sense, and Aunt Rachel was always bothering, and trying to make mamma think that Con told stories.

“I don’t mind that,” said Conrade, stoutly; “let her try!”

“Oh, but she wanted mamma to shut you up,” added Francis.

“Well, and mamma knows better,” said Conrade, “and it made her leave off teaching me, so it was lucky.  But I don’t mind that; only don’t you see, Colonel, they don’t know how to treat mamma!  They go and bully her, and treat her like—­like a subaltern, till I hate the very sight of it.”

“My boy,” said the Colonel, who had been giving only half attention; “you must make up your mind to your mother not being at the head of everything, as she used to be in your father’s time.  She will always be respected, but you must look to yourself as you grow up to make a position tor her!”

“I wish I was grown up!” sighed Conrade; “how I would give it to Aunt Rachel!  But why must we live here to have her plaguing us?”

Questions that the Colonel was glad to turn aside by moans of the ponies, and by a suggestion that, if a very quiet one were found, and if Conrade would be very careful, mamma might, perhaps, go out riding with them.  The motion was so transcendant that, no sooner had the ponies been seen, than the boys raced home, and had communicated it at the top of their voices to mamma long before their friend made his appearance.  Lady Temple was quite startled at the idea.  “Dear papa,” as she always called her husband, “had wished her to ride, but she had seldom done so, and now—­” The tears came into her eyes.