lost, if it makes home cheerful for my mate. Birds sing sweetest in their own nests, you know," and Phebe bent toward him with a look and gesture which plainly showed how willingly she offered up all ambitious hopes upon the altar of a woman's happy love.
Both seemed to forget that they were not alone, and in a moment they were; for a sudden impulse carried Rose to the door of her sanctum, as if the south wind which seemed to have set in was wafting this little ship also toward the Islands of the Blest, where the others were safely anchored now.
The room was a blaze of sunshine and a bower of spring freshness and fragrance: for here Rose had let her fancy have free play; and each garland, fern, and flower had its meaning. Mac seemed to have been reading this sweet language of symbols, to have guessed why Charlie's little picture was framed in white roses, why pansies hung about his own, why Psyche was half hidden among feathery sprays of maiden's-hair, and a purple passion-flower lay at Cupid's feet. The last fancy evidently pleased him; for he was smiling over it, and humming to himself, as if to beguile his patient waiting, the burden of the air Rose so often sung to him,—
To the birks of Aberfeldie?"
"Yes, Mac, anywhere!"
