The Eagle Cliff

During this period, also, Mabberly applied himself to his duties in London, unaffected by the loss of the Fairy, and profoundly interested in the success of his friend Barret, who had devoted himself heart and head to natural history, with a view to making that science his profession, though his having been left a competence by his father rendered a profession unnecessary, from a financial point of view. As for Giles Jackman, that stalwart “Woods-and-Forester” returned to his adopted land, accompanied by the faithful Quin, and busied himself in the activities of his adventurous career, while he sought to commend the religion of Jesus alike to native and European, both by precept and example, proving the great truth that “godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come.” MacRummle, during the same period, spent much time in his study, writing for publication an elaborate treatise on fishing, with a few notes on shooting, in the Western Isles. He was encouraged in this work by a maiden sister who worshipped him, and by the presence of an enormous stuffed eagle in a corner of his study.

One day, towards the close of this period of ten months, a beautiful little woman and a handsome young man might have been seen riding in one of the quiet streets of London. They rode neither on horseback, nor in a carriage, still less in a cab! Their vehicle was a tricycle of the form which has obtained the name of “Sociable.”

“See, this is the corner, Milly,” said the young man. “I told you that one of the very first places I would take you to see after our marriage would be the spot where I had the good fortune to run our mother down. So now I have kept my word. There is the very spot, by the lamp-post, where the sweep stood looking at the thin little old lady so pathetically when I was forced to rise and run away.”

“Oh, John!” exclaimed Milly, pointing with eager looks along the street; “and there is the thin little old lady herself!”

“So it is! Well, coincidences will never cease,” said Barret, as he stepped from the “sociable” and hurried to meet Mrs Moss, who shook her finger and head at him as she pointed to the pavement near the lamp-post.

“I would read you a lecture now, sir,” she said; “but will reserve it, for here is a letter that may interest you.”

It did indeed interest all three of them, as they sat together that afternoon in the sunshine of Milly’s boudoir, for it was a long and well-written epistle from old Molly Donaldson.

We will not venture to weary the reader with all that the good old woman had to say, but it may perhaps be of interest to transcribe the concluding sentence. It ran thus,—“You will be glad to hear that my dear Ivor is doing well. He was married in March to Aggy Anderson, an’ they live in the old cottage beside me. Ivor has put on the blue ribbon. The laird has put it on too, to the surprise o’ everybody. But I think little o’ that. I think more o’ a bit pasteboard that hangs over my son’s mantelpiece, on which he has written wi’ his own hand the blessed words—‘Saved by Grace.’”

The End