Year: 1879

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 Just then the door of the nearest cot tage opened and a woman's face looked out. It was growing dark.

 Is it you, Erickson! There's no one at home in the house there. But 1 have something here that I was to | give you when you came this way" | His face was stern and set and white in the fading light as he took the little packet from the woman's hand.

 Where have they goneP" was all he said.

 "I don't just know. To visit some of their kinfolk d great way off, the widow said. ''Oh, but she's a close mouthed one, she is-and Meg's a bit 1 like her. They're not gossipy folk. You never get much out of them," she added, with an injured air. AS soon as he was out of sight Matthew Erickson opened the packet. He knew what was in it before he un- tied the knot-a string of curiously- carved beads with a strange, foreign, spicy odor, that he had bought of a Meg's neck one happy night, and two or three other trifes he had given her. And he found this note slowly and pain l fully written, badly spelled. perhaps, and not punctuated at all. But what of that? The meaning was plain enough !; all too plain, Matt thought, as he drew his hand across his eyes as if to clear his vision:

 "I gave you back your troth last night. Here are the beads, and the silver piece, and the heron feathers Now all is over between us" Here she had evidently hesitated a moment, won dering if her words were strong enough !; for, on the line below she had written as. with an echo from the prayer-bOOk reverberating in her ears: "FOrever and forever, amen. Mar garet Neale,n

 Not Meg, his Meg, his proud, high 1 spirited sweetheart but Margaret Neale! 1 It set her at such an immeasurable dis usn As if she were dead and buried out ofhis sight. And he had spoken to James Ray about the snug cottage beyond the | bay; and they were to have been married at Michaelmasl

 1 He knew enough of the W idow Neale's | habits to ask no more questions of the neighbors. As one of them had said, she was close-mouthed. He knew she had a sister living in Scotland, for whom Meg was named; but where even he did not 1 know Scotland was like a distant for eign land to thepeople in Rysdyk. But the widow had money enough to go to Scotland CT farther if sine wished, even on short notice. She had never worked in the mines, neither had Meg. She had | a comfortable annuity, left her by her old mistress; for she had served in a great family before she had married John Neale.

 Month after month passed. Michael mas was over. winter came and went. and Rysdyk knew no more of her or of Meg than when they left. The silence, ! the void, grew uncomfortable to Matt With the early spring he carried into effect what had been the one dream of his life before he learned to love Meg America was the land of promise for miners as well as others, and had he not a friend who worked in the great iron mines at Ishpeming, Michigan, on the shores of the wonderful Northern lake that was itself almost as large as all England?

 So when one fine morning, nearly a year after her sudden Hitting, the neigh bors awoke to find the door of Widow Neale's cottage jar and the shutters open, the first bit of news Meg heard was that Matt Erickson had gone to America.

 It struck her like blow. Now, in deed, he had dropped out of her life as utterly as, months since, she had dropped out of his. For she, too, had had time to repent. Almost before the blue hills ot Scotland had dawned upon her sight she had repented in dust and ashes. How foolish she had been, like a child who throws away his bread in 8 pet and goes to bed hungry. Why had she not worn the blue ribbon to please her lover, even if she did not like it? As for Jenny-but what nonsense was that! She would have been ashamed of Matt if he had not been kind to her.

 To be sure, he had been cross and had thrown ava her ribbon. But then he was man, and men were strong and masterful and could not bear contradic- tion, and she had angered him by her foolish persistence.

 An! If she could but undo it all, and have her tall, brave, handsome lover back again!

 She would have turned round and gone back to Rysdyk the very next day if she could have had her way. But 8 Journey was 8 journey to people of their rank and condition, and her mother, who had taken it to please her, and somewhat against her own will, was not to be blown about like a feather by her ca prices.

 But why, do you ask, did not Meg write to her lover, if she felt she had been in the wrong? And why did no wiser ones than she always do the best thing, the right thing? Besides, she was a woman, and proud one. After hav ing discarded her lover she would not forthwith fall at his feet andas him to marry her. But, ah! she thought as the long, slow days wore on, ifshe could but look upon his face once more, he would know all without the telling.

 Once in a while, as the years went on, at rare intervals news of him came back to Rysdyk. He was well; he had fair wages, though gold was not to be had for the gathering in America any more than in England; he. had been promoted and had charge of a gang of n1en. At length there was a long interval Of silence. then after d while a letter in a strange handwriting, a letter to his uncle, who had died three weeks before it came There had been a bad accident in the