the valley of the shadow of death. His wet eyes, looking abroad upon
the outer world, were as the eyes of those who see not. The afternoon
sunshine paled and thinned, but beneath the chill of the spring day
there lay a warm hint of the untold tenderness of midsummer.
Unconsciously to himself the prophecy brought a feeling of comfort to
his heart, in its reminder of the glory of that summer to which his
mother might even now be passing--"the glory that was to be revealed."

It was early twilight when Edward Macleod reached his beautiful home
overlooking Kempenfeldt Bay. The broad, solid-built house, with its
commanding position, and spacious verandas, seemed just such a mansion
as an old naval officer, who was reduced to the insipid necessity of a
life on shore, would choose to dwell in. One might almost be tempted
to call it a fine piece of marine architecture, in some of its
fanciful reminders of an ocean vessel. Its solitariness, its pointed
turrets and gables, its proud position on what might be termed the
topmost wave of earth in that region, the flying flag at its summit,
and the ample white curtains that fluttered sail-like in the open
windows, all heightened the resemblance. From its portal down to the
bay, extended a noble avenue of hardwood trees--oak, walnut and
elm--never planted by the hand of man. Their gracious lives the
woodman had spared, and now, with their outstretched branches,
catching the faint evening breeze, they seemed to breathe a sad
benediction upon the returning youth, who walked hurriedly and
tremblingly beneath them.

As he stepped from their leafy shadow upon the sunset-gilded lawn, he
was startled by an apparition which seemed suddenly to take shape from
a sweet-scented thicket of lilacs now in profuse bloom at the rear of
the house. A dark, lissome creature, beautiful as a young princess,