Now he knew it all.

She did not "greet;" she could not.

In spite of its outward incompleteness, it had been a noble life--an almost perfect life; and now it was ended.

He had had his desire; his poor helpless body cumbered him no more--he was "away." * * * * * It was a bright winter morning the day the Earl of Cairnforth was buried -- clear hard frost, and a little snow--not much--snow never lies long on the shores of Loch Beg.

There was no stately funeral, for it was found that he had left express orders to the contrary; but four of his own people, Malcolm Campbell and three more, took on their shoulders the small coffin, scarcely heavier than a child's, and bore it tenderly from Cairnforth Castle to Cainforth kirk-yard.