At the highway she paused.

Before them lay the Glen in all the splendid sweep of its beauty.
"Isn't it lovely!" she breathed.
"Lovely!" echoed Martin, his eyes not on the Glen.

"It is so sunny, you know." "Yes," she answered quickly, "you notice that ?" "How could I help it ?" said Martin, his eyes still resting upon her.
"How could I ?" "Of course," she replied, "and so we call it the Glen Cuagh Oir, that is the 'Glen of the Cup of Gold.' And to think he has to leave it all to-morrow!" she added.
The pathetic cadences in her voice again drove Martin to despair.

He recovered himself, however, to say, "But he is going to Canada!" "Yes, to Canada.

And we all feel it so dreadfully for him, and," she added in a lower voice, "for ourselves." Had it been yesterday Martin would have been ready with scorn for any such feeling, and with congratulations to Cameron upon his exceptionally good luck in the expectation of going to Canada; but to-day, somehow it was different.