X.

BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER.

"Ah, God! My child! my first, my living child!
I have been dreaming of a thing like thee
E'er since a babe, upon the mountains wild

I nursed my mimic babe upon my knee."

" Bright as his manly sire my son shall be

In form and soul; but ah! more blest than he !
Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love at last
Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past."

THE

-Wade.

-Rogers.

HE relationship between Lady Yarrow and Ann was one about which many people had once speculated, and Scotia could not help, in her companionship with the two women, wondering what singular bond of interest or affection made their friendship so close and lasting. For the thought of kinship did not seem possible. Lady Yarrow was one of her own family, a woman of high birth and fine breeding; moreover, one who had opened her soul to every wind of life that brought on its wings wider thought or cultivation. Everything about her friend Ann pointed to lowly birth, insufficient education, and those positive opinions and prejudices which are usually found in primitive natures.

Yet Lady Yarrow exacted from her household the same respect for her friend as she did for herself. If

she sat at the head of the table, Ann sat at the foot. Ann had the most positive authority over everything. She engaged or dismissed servants as she thought proper; she examined and paid all bills; she took the whole burden of the housekeeping upon her shoulders. She was Lady Yarrow's closest companion; they spoke to each other with perfect freedom and familiarity; and yet Ann rendered her friend the service of a maid, and very often received, with apparent indifference, orders and reproofs, which indicated that beneath the surface of equality there was a radical social difference which both acknowledged.

Lady Yarrow made no explanations to Scotia on this subject; probably the position had become so natural to herself that she forgot any explanation was necessary. Yet there had been a time when society had been rebellious about Mistress Ann, and people of pronounced social views had refused to accept her.

Then surmises had been many and unpleasant; they had died out; they had begun again; they had finally passed away altogether; and Lady Yarrow's acquaintances had accepted Ann for all she required, which was not very much-her place at table and her chair in some quiet corner, where she sat with a piece of work in her hands, if the company were informal. In more ceremonious gatherings, Ann usually disappeared when dancing and card playing began.

"My friend has some fixed opinions, and she is embayed in them like a ship in ice," explained Lady Yarrow, "but she is conscientious, and we must respect her scruples."

All wonders and queries had, however, long been over when Scotia visited her aunt; and Mistress Ann in her black silk dress and white lace cap and neck

erchief, was as much a part of Yarrow House as was Lady Yarrow herself. She was a constant source of interest to Scotia. Sometimes she fancied she must have known her when she was a child-a child too young to individualize the forms that made part of her small world. She was much younger than Lady Yarrow; a very handsome woman nearing fifty years of age. Her features were grandly formed, and had an expression serious and placid. She was tall and slightly stout-a comely, comfortable presence without dignity, without pride, and equally without selfconsciousness.

Although usually very calm, she was much moved by Lady Yarrow's positive determination to send her to Rodney Law. But she did not let her feelings 'run into motion' as nervous people do. She sat still, her hands were folded on her lap, her eyes were introspective; her face was like a piece of dull water which reflected nothing. Yet she was feeling intensely. Nor were her feelings such as breed sorrow. They had in them great hopes, the craving of devoted yet unsatisfied affection, and a good portion of personal pride; only Ann was a coward, and to 'let well alone' seemed to her a sure and desirable good. She feared to risk all in order to gain all. Life, with its secret joy and its hidden spring of happiness, was so pleasant, so peaceful! Why should she call change to herself and others.

After a long reflection she rose slowly to her feet and began to undress. Anon, she lifted her Bible, and with conscious, purposeful deliberation opened it. The portion her eyes selected did not alter her countenance. She laid down the book with an air of "I thought so," and said decidedly :

"I'll no go a footstep. I'm no sent there yet. If my Lady canna wait for the opening of the door, she will hae to break it open wi' her ain hand. That settles the matter i' my mind."

And it did settle it. Ann knew nothing about worry. She never let the sorrow of yesterday pile itself into mountains high, while she lay tossing on her hot pillow. She had the wisdom denied to this nervous generation, who let the obstacle to be encountered at some future time triumph over them in advance. The evil of the day was sufficient for the day, with Ann, and she fell asleep telling herself "maybe something extronar" will happen.

In the morning something extraordinary did happen. As Lady Yarrow was dressing, Ann let her silver comb fall, and it stood straight up. "You are going to hae a strange visitor, Lady Jemima," she said, as she picked up the little diviner, and looked curiously at it.

Do we see a'

"Ann, Ann! in all things you are too superstitious. What can the comb know of a coming visitor?" "Ken you wha is behind the comb? the hands that shape the day's doings? Men will hae to be wiser than what is written, ere they tell us why certain signs always go before certain events."

And though Lady Yarrow smiled at Ann's superstition, she was not insensible to its influence. "It is such a lovely day," she answered, "I will put on my best velvet suit," and so she attributed to the weather a motive whose real source lay deeper down and farther away. "I have just sent Scotia to dress for the carriage, and we may make some calls-or we may do some shopping-or we may have a swift drive as far as Roslyn. Anything pleasant is likely, Ann."

She took a last look at her still handsome figure in its handsome drapery, and then, as she left the room, said, "I will wait for Scotia in the breakfast parlor. She ought not to be long. A bonnie lassie is soon dressed. Tell her where to find me, Ann."

"I forgot, Lady Jemima, to tell you somethingthere is a letter from Yarrow Bell. Jim Haddon says he hasna siller enough to care for the sheep through the winter."

She was half way down the stairs, but she turned with a laugh. "All complain of the want of siller, Ann, but none of the want of sense. Send the man whatever he needs--and send Scotia to me."

As she spoke, the footman threw open the main entrance, and a young man in the uniform of the Royal Highlanders, walked, with a splendid air of youth and of owning all the world, through the wide hall into the parlor. She followed him as quickly as possible. He came to meet her with a letter in his hand-bareheaded, smiling, with just a touch of that patronage which youth is apt to assume toward age.

"I should know you without introduction"; said Lady Yarrow, looking eagerly into the bright, pleasant face. "You cannot be Captain James Forres, but you must be his son."

"I am the son of Lord James Fraser Forres. He was Captain Forres when he knew you many years ago."

She looked at him with a strange yearning. This fine soldier might have been her son, but for her sister Dorinda. She bade him sit down, in a voice that trembled with emotion, and then read the letter, that had come years and years too late.

As her eyes were bent upon it, Scotia entered the