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between his teeth, his eyes starting out of his head, and his knife in one hand, fell down upon his knees ; whilst Walter, the clerk, scarcely less terrified, retreated almost into the fire, exclaiming, “ Avaunt! The Lord have mercy upon us. A ghost!" and seizing the poker in one hand, and the toasting fork-which happened to be near -in the other, whilst his few grey hairs stood on end with fright. Herbert laughed heartily : he could not help it. That wellknown laugh re-assured Miriam, who, like Morgan, had fallen upon her knees as soon as she felt the touch of Herbert's clammy hands. She ventured to look up. : “Ghosts are not flesh and blood, Miriam," said Herbert, “it is I myself—what are you afraid of? Walter-Morgan-my old
friends ;-is this how you welcome me back ?!
Poor Miriam cast her arms about his knees, and began to sob; she could not speak. He raised her from the ground, shook her by the hand, and then went to help up Morgan, whose little round body seemed paralyzed, and who shook like a leaf. At last the cheese fell from his mouth, and the knife from his hand—and he exclaimed
“Thank God thank God! My master -my poor master.” Now came forward Walter, and fairly took Herbert in his long, bony arms, and wept over him like a child.
“ Christian is returned : the pilgrim is come home. The Lord be praised,” he said.
When at last they became more composed, and Herbert sat down amongst them, they began to consider the best means of breaking his return to Lady Llewellen. It was agreed that Miriam should call down Miss Clare, who was described to Herbert as Lady Llewellen's second daughter. He went into the drawing-room, and Clare soon appeared, pale and trembling with agitation, prepared by Miriam for the wonderful return of Her
bert. Scarcely had their hands met in a warm, long grasp, when Lady Llewellen entered, with a candle in her hand, in search of something. She started at seeing a stranger with Clare, glanced at himdropped the candlestick, screamed “Herbert," and fell into his extended arms. He kissed her tenderly, and entreated her not to be alarmed, since he was safe once more, and owed his life to Gwenthlean. She recovered herself, and fell upon his neck in a transport of thankfulness, whilst Clare wept for joy. Herbert was quite overcome. Exhausted by agitation and the dangers he had escaped, he could bear up no longer, but sunk upon a sofa, and burst into tears : tears of weakness as well as pleasure. A glass of wine brought by Miriam soon restored him, and his first words were-
“ Gwenthlean! Is she-is she another's ?" *"No," said Lady Llewellen_“but I will answer no questions to-night.”
She did not add that she dreaded the next question he might ask.
“One more :” he said, “My grandfather ? is he very much changed-very much broken by his sorrows ?"
“He has been wonderfully supported. And now, my dear, dear Herbert, you must go at once to rest. You are so illso worn.”
"I shall soon be well again, now I am come home. Let us thank God for all His mercies," and he motioned them to kneel whilst he, himself, fell upon his knees. The servants were in the passage, and came in, and Herbert, in a low, impressive voice, poured forth a short, but inspired thanksgiving.
They arose calmed aud strengthened
Lady Llewellen's room had been prepared in case of emergency, and thither Morgan accompanied his young master as valet, followed by Walter with a tray of provisions, and finally by Miriam with hot water and flannels. Under such auspices, we will wish him good night, and leave him to quiet, bappy slumbers, and dreams of Gwenthlean.
I saw my Jannie's ghaist-I could na' think it he, Till he said, “ I'm come hame my love, to marry
thee." Sair, sair, did we greet, and mickle say of a'; Ae kiss we took, nae mair. I bade him gang awa, I wish that I were dead. but I'm no like to dee, For oh ? I am but young yet, to cry_Woe is me.
Auld Robin Gray.
On the morning succeeding the day on which the events recorded in the last chapter occurred, Gwenthlean arose very early. She awoke whilst all the other inmates of the cottage, one, perhaps, excepted, were still buried in slumbers, which the fatigues and anxieties of the preceding evening,