neighbours, whose peaceful dwellings nestled among the hills before
her. Then she felt condemned as she heard floating up from the
sitting-room, the "wild, warbling strains" of Dundee, her dear old
father's voice, with just a little tremble in the tones. "How
thankful she ought to be for this blessed home of hers." The
stove-pipe came up from below and warmed her room. She came over to
it, and inclined her head to hear the words:

"Oh, God, our help in ages past
Our strength in years to come,
Our refuge from the stormy blast,
And our eternal borne."

Sure enough! God our "strength in years to come," even though they be
wearisome years. A little "stormy blast" had swept over her. She
would fly to her Refuge, and then the "eternal home." What if this
life was not just as we would have it, the next one will be; and Edna
"laid her down in peace and slept."

"Heigh ho!" said Mr. Winters one bright day, "whom have we here?" A
merry jingle of bells suddenly stopped and two gray horses and a
handsome sleigh stood in front of the gate. "Mr. Monteith, eh? He has
most likely come to take me out riding," he said, with a twinkle in
his eye.

"Miss Edna, will you ride?" Mr. Monteith asked when the greetings
were over. Edna's eyes sought her mother's for reply. It was not
every gentleman, be he ever so great and rich, that this primitive,
independent father and mother would entrust with their treasure,
their one ewe lamb.