up　gloriously。
  Then　first　Robert　bethought　himself　that　they　had　nothing　to　eat。
  He　himself　was　full　of　merriment；　and　cared　nothing　about　eating；
  for　had　he　not　Miss　St。　John　and　Ericson　there？　but　for　them
  something　must　be　provided。　　He　took　his　lantern　and　went　back
  through　the　storm。　　The　hail　had　ceased；　but　the　wind　blew
  tremendously。　　The　coach　stood　upon　the　bridge　like　a　stranded
  vessel；　its　two　lamps　holding　doubtful　battle　with　the　wind；　now
  flaring　out　triumphantly；　now　almost　yielding　up　the　ghost。　　Inside；
  the　guard　was　snoring　in　defiance　of　the　pother　o'er　his　head。
  'Hector！　　Hector！'　cried　Robert。
  'Ay；　ay；'　answered　Hector。　'It's　no　time　to　wauken　yet。'
  'Hae　ye　nae　basket；　Hector；　wi'　something　to　eat　in　'tnaething
  gaein'　to　Rothieden　'at　a　body　micht　say　by　yer　leave　till？'
  'Ow！　it's　you；　is　't？'　returned　Hector；　rousing　himself。　'Na。　Deil
  ane。　　An'　gin　I　had；　I　daurna　gie　ye　't。'
  'I　wad　mak　free　to　steal　't；　though；　an'　tak　my　chance；'　said
  Robert。　'But　ye　say　ye　hae　nane？'
  'Nane；　I　tell　ye。　　Ye　winna　hunger　afore　the　mornin'；　man。'
  'I'll　stan'　hunger　as　weel　's　you　ony　day；　Hector。　　It's　no　for
  mysel'。　　There's　Miss　St。　John。'
  'Hoots！'　said　Hector；　peevishly；　for　he　wanted　to　go　to　sleep　again；
  'gang　and　mak　luve　till　her。　　Nae　lass　'll　think　o'　meat　as　lang　's
  ye　do　that。　　That　'll　haud　her　ohn　hungert。'
  The　words　were　like　blasphemy　in　Robert's　ear。　　He　make　love　to　Miss
  St。　John！　　He　turned　from　the　coach…door　in　disgust。　　But　there　was
  no　place　he　knew　of　where　anything　could　be　had；　and　he　must　return
  empty…handed。
  The　light　of　the　fire　shone　through　a　little　hole　in　the　boards　that
  closed　the　window。　　His　lamp　had　gone　out；　but；　guided　by　that；　he
  found　the　road　again；　and　felt　his　way　up　the　stairs。　　When　he
  entered　the　room　he　saw　Miss　St。　John　sitting　on　the　floor；　for
  there　was　nowhere　else　to　sit；　with　the　guard's　coat　under　her。　　She
  had　taken　off　her　bonnet。　　Her　back　leaned　against　the　side　of　the
  chimney；　and　her　eyes　were　bent　thoughtfully　on　the　ground。　　In
  their　shine　Robert　read　instinctively　that　Ericson　had　said
  something　that　had　set　her　thinking。　　He　lay　on　the　floor　at　some
  distance；　leaning　on　his　elbow；　and　his　eye　had　the　flash　in　it　that
  indicates　one　who　has　just　ceased　speaking。　　They　had　not　found　his
  absence　awkward　at　least。
  'I　hae　been　efter　something　to　eat；'　said　Robert；　'but　I　canna　fa'
  in　wi'　onything。　　We　maun　jist　tell　stories　or　sing　sangs；　as　fowk
  do　in　buiks；　or　else　Miss　St。　John　'ill　think　lang。'
  They　did　sing　songs；　and　they　did　tell　stories。　　I　will　not　trouble
  my　reader　with　more　than　the　sketch　of　one　which　Robert　toldthe
  story　of　the　old　house　wherein　they　sata　house　without　a　history；
  save　the　story　of　its　no　history。　　It　had　been　built　for　the
  jointure…house　of　a　young　countess；　whose　husband　was　an　old　man。　　A
  lover　to　whom　she　had　turned　a　deaf　ear　had　left　the　country；
  begging　ere　he　went　her　acceptance　of　a　lovely　Italian　grayhound。
  She　was　weak　enough　to　receive　the　animal。　　Her　husband　died　the
  same　year；　and　before　the　end　of　it　the　dog　went　mad；　and　bit　her。
  According　to　the　awful　custom　of　the　time　they　smothered　her
  between　two　feather…beds；　just　as　the　house　of　Bogbonnie　was　ready
  to　receive　her　furniture；　and　become　her　future　dwelling。　　No　one
  had　ever　occupied　it。
  If　Miss　St。　John　listened　to　story　and　song　without　as　much　show　of
  feeling　as　Mysie　Lindsay　would　have　manifested；　it　was　not　that　she
  entered　into　them　less　deeply。　　It　was　that　she　was　more；　not　felt
  less。
  Listening　at　her　window　once　with　Robert；　Eric　Ericson　had　heard
  Mary　St。　John　play：　this　was　their　first　meeting。　　Full　as　his　mind
  was　of　Mysie；　he　could　not　fail　to　feel　the　charm　of　a　noble；
  stately　womanhood　that　could　give　support；　instead　of　rousing
  sympathy　for　helplessness。　　There　was　in　the　dignified　simplicity　of
  Mary　St。　John　that　which　made　every　good　man　remember　his　mother；
  and　a　good　man　will　think　this　grand　praise；　though　a　fast　girl　will
  take　it　for　a　doubtful　compliment。
  Seeing　her　begin　to　look　weary；　the　young　men　spread　a　couch　for　her
  as　best　they　could；　made　up　the　fire；　and　telling　her　they　would　be
  in　the　hall　below；　retired；　kindled　another　fire；　and　sat　down　to
  wait　for　the　morning。　　They　held　a　long　talk。　　At　length　Robert　fell
  asleep　on　the　floor。
  Ericson　rose。　　One　of　his　fits　of　impatient　doubt　was　upon　him。　　In
  the　dying　embers　of　the　fire　he　strode　up　and　down　the　waste　hall；
  with　the　storm　raving　around　it。　　He　was　destined　to　an　early　death；
  he　would　leave　no　one　of　his　kin　to　mourn　for　him；　the　girl　whose
  fair　face　had　possessed　his　imagination；　would　not　give　one　sigh　to
  his　memory；　wandering　on　through　the　regions　of　fancy　all　the　same；
  and　the　death…struggle　over；　he　might　awake　in　a　godless　void；
  where；　having　no　creative　power　in　himself；　he　must　be　tossed　about；
  a　conscious　yet　helpless　atom；　to　eternity。　　It　was　not　annihilation
  he　feared；　although　he　did　shrink　from　the　thought　of
  unconsciousness；　it　was　life　without　law　that　he　dreaded；　existence
  without　the　bonds　of　a　holy　necessity；　thought　without　faith；　being
  without　God。
  For　all　her　fatigue　Miss　St。　John　could　not　sleep。　　The　house
  quivered　in　the　wind　which　howled　more　and　more　madly　through　its
  long　passages　and　empty　rooms；　and　she　thought　she　heard　cries　in
  the　midst　of　the　howling。　　In　vain　she　reasoned　with　herself：　she
  could　not　rest。　　She　rose　and　opened　the　door　of　her　room；　with　a
  vague　notion　of　being　nearer　to　the　young　men。
  It　opened　upon　the　narrow　gallery；　already　mentioned　as　leading　from
  one　side　of　the　first　floor　to　the　other　at　mid…height　along　the　end
  of　the　hall。　　The　fire　below　shone　into　this　gallery；　for　it　was
  divided　from　the　hall　only　by　a　screen　of　crossing　bars　of　wood；
  like　unglazed　window…frames；　possibly　intended　to　hold　glass。　　Of
  the　relation　of　the　passage　to　the　hall　Mary　St。　John　knew　nothing；
  till；　approaching　the　light；　she　found　herself　looking　down　into　the
  red　dusk　below。　　She　stood　riveted；　for　in　the　centre　of　the　hall；
  with　his　hands　clasped　over　his　head　like　the　solitary　arch　of　a
  ruined　Gothic　aisle；　stood　Ericson。
  His　agony　had　grown　within　himthe　agony　of　the　silence　that
  brooded　immovable　throughout　the　infinite；　whose　sea　would　ripple　to
  no　breath　of　the　feeble　tempest　of　his　prayers。　　At　length　it　broke
  from　him　in　low　but　sharp　sounds　of　words。
  'O　God；'　he　said；　'if　thou　art；　why　dost　thou　not　speak？　　If　I　am
  thy　handiworkdost　thou　forget　that　which　thou　hast　made？'
  He　paused；　motionless；　then　cried　again：
  'There　can　be　no　God；　or　he　would　hear。'
  'God　has　heard　me！'　said　a　full…toned　voice　of　feminine　tenderness
  somewhere　in　the　air。　　Looking　up；　Ericson　saw　the　dim　form　of　Mary
  St。　John　half…way　up　the　side　of　the　lofty　hall。　　The　same　moment
  she　vanishedtrembling　at　the　sound　of　her　own　voice。
  Thus　to　Ericson　as　to　Robert　had　she　appeared　as　an　angel。
  And　was　she　less　of　a　divine　messenger　because　she　had　a　human　body；
  whose　path　lay　not　through　the　air？　　The　storm　of　misery　folded　its
  wings　in　Eric's　bosom；　and；　at　the　sound　of　her　voice；　there　was　a
  great　calm。　　Nor　if　we　inquire　into　the　matter　shall　we　find　that
  such　an　effect　indicated　anything　derogatory　to　the　depth　of　his
  feelings　or　the　strength　of　his　judgment。　　It　is　not　through　the
  judgment　that　a　troubled　heart　can　be　set　at　rest。　　It　needs　a
  revelation；　a　vision；　a　something　for　the　higher　nature　that　breeds
  and　infolds　the　intellect；　to　recognize　as　of　its　own；　and　lay　hold
  of　by　faithful　hope。　　And　what　fitter　messenger　of　such　hope　than
  the　harmonious　presence　of　a　woman；　whose　form　itself　tells　of
  highest　law；　and　concord；　and　uplifting　obedience；　such　a　one　whose
  beauty　walks　the　upper　air　of　noble　loveliness；　whose　voice；　even　in
  speech；　is　one　of　the　'sphere…born　harmonious　sisters？　　The　very
  presence　of　such　a　being　gives　Unbelief　the　lie；　deep　as　the　throat
  of　her　lying。　　Harmony；　which　is　beauty　and　law；　works　necessary
  faith　in　the　region　capable　of　truth。　　It　needs　the　intervention　of
  no　reasoning。　　It　is　beheld。　　This　visible　Peace；　with　that　voice　of
  woman's　truth；　said；　'God　has　heard　me！'　　What　better　testimony
  could　an　angel　have　brought　him？　　Or　why　should　an　angel's　testimony
  weigh　more　than　such　a　woman's？　　The　mere　understanding　of　a　man
  like　Ericson　would　only　have　demanded　of　an　angel　proof　that　he　was
  an　angel；　proof　that　angels　knew　better　than　he　did　in　the　matter　in
  question；　proof　that　they　were　not　easy…going　creatures　that　took
  for　granted　the　rumours　of　heaven。　　The　best　that　a　miracle　can　do
  is　to　give　hope；　of　the　objects　of　faith　it　can　give　no　proof；　one
  spiritual　testimony　is　worth　a　thousand　of　them。　　For　to　gain　the
  sole　proof　of　which　these　truths　admit；　a　man　must　grow　into　harmony
  with　them。　　If　there　a