assisted her in these arrangements, and pressed upon her so kindly the hospitality and protection of his roof, until she should receive an answer from her cousin, or be enabled to adopt some settled plan of life, that she felt there would be unkindness in refusing an invitation urged with such earnestness.  Mrs. Mac-Morlan was a ladylike person, and well qualified by birth and manners to receive the visit, and to make her house agreeable to Miss Bertram.  A home, therefore, and an hospitable reception were secured to her, and she went on with better heart to pay the wages and receive the adieus of the few domestics of her father’s family.

Where there are estimable qualities on either side, this task is always affecting; the present circumstances rendered it doubly so.  All received their due, and even a trifle more, and with thanks and good wishes, to which some added tears, took farewell of their young mistress.  There remained in the parlour only Mr. Mac-Morlan, who came to attend his guest to his house, Dominie Sampson, and Miss Bertram.  ‘And now,’ said the poor girl, ’I must bid farewell to one of my oldest and kindest friends.  God bless you, Mr. Sampson, and requite to you all the kindness of your instructions to your poor pupil, and your friendship to him that is gone.  I hope I shall often hear from you.’  She slid into his hand a paper containing some pieces of gold, and rose, as if to leave the room.

Dominie Sampson also rose; but it was to stand aghast with utter astonishment.  The idea of parting from Miss Lucy, go where she might, had never once occurred to the simplicity of his understanding.  He laid the money on the table.  ’It is certainly inadequate,’ said Mac-Morlan, mistaking his meaning, ’but the circumstances—­’

Mr. Sampson waved his hand impatiently.—­’It is not the lucre, it is not the lucre; but that I, that have ate of her father’s loaf, and drank of his cup, for twenty years and more—­to think that I am going to leave her, and to leave her in distress and dolour!  No, Miss Lucy, you need never think it!  You would not consent to put forth your father’s poor dog, and would you use me waur than a messan?  No, Miss Lucy Bertram, while I live I will not separate from you.  I’ll be no burden; I have thought how to prevent that.  But, as Ruth said unto Naomi, “Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to depart from thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou dwellest I will dwell; thy people shall be my people, and thy God shall be my God.  Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried.  The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death do part thee and me."’