him than mine had of a runagate like me. Ten years away from home, and no further on in the world, seems a very poor accost to give of myself, but ten years hence—I have some hopes now.
"With kindest love to all my brothers and sisters, believe me always your affectionate and dutiful son,
"George Copeland."
"You see what you have done, Jessie," said George. "May I apologise to your father for my shabby treatment of him, and beg to be allowed to go to Gundabook?"
"As you please," said Jessie, and she thought for awhile. "I have been wondering what made me so deceived about your heart. That unsettledness, you say, is natural to you, so I had no right to judge by that; but I see it is because you have been amongst gentlefolk like Amy that your ways are different from those of any man we ever had about the place—gentler, kinder, and more polite. I thought it was because you liked me, that you were so mindful, and the way you used to circumvent my father to let Allan have some quiet time for his books was what he'll never forget, nor me either. But it is what you would have done in any house and for any
