THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY. CHAPTER I. NINIAN GREME stood at his own door, waiting for it to be opened unto him—the sooner the better, any one would have thought who noted the miserable weather without. The little square-it was one of those dull spots in the New Town of Edinburgh, where grass grows among the pavement-stones, and the very sparrows seem half asleep -was filled with a dense white mist, rare indeed to the clear atmosphere of the hill-city, but, when it does come, fraught with intense cold that pierces to one's very soul. Yet Ninian did not seem to feel it. He stood looking down the blank street of which his own abode made the corner-house. But he evidently saw nothing-at least with his outward eyes. At length, turning round, his attention was caught by the bright brass door-plate, on which was inscribed, “Professor Græme." He gave a momentary start, and his closeset lips quivered once or twice; but soon he resumed the quiet manly bearing which seemed habitual to him. The maid opened the door. "Are they come?" was Ninian's hasty question. "Eh, sir? Na, na, it's no the time. At sax o'clock, Miss Græme said—” "Yes, you're right, Katie," answered the young man, as he unrolled himself from his damp plaid and hung it to dry. In so doing he knocked down a heavy oaken stick, which he took up, touching it tenderly, while the same passing pang troubled his countenance. "Here-put this by somewhere-in my room,” he said in a whisper. "And, Katie "-he half-opened the front ”—he door and pointed to the brass plate, then added with an effort, as though mute actions came easier to him than words "see that this is taken off early, mind! before my sisters can see it to-morrow morning." "I will do that, Mr. Ninian-or Mr. Græme, as ye are the noo," answered Katie, in a subdued tone, as she disappeared with her apron to her eyes. Ninian went up stairs to his sister. She sat by the fire, sewing a dress of some mourning material commoner than the one she wore. Her occupation, together with a certain pallor and gravity in her look, and an indescribable yet unmistakable gloom which hung over the whole house, indicated that this was a home which had been lately visited by the dread Guest who must come at times to all. As Mr. Græme entered, the sister looked up and smiled; -no, not exactly smiled, but a pleasantness came over her features. It was evident that Ninian was one of those whose presence brings light at all times and under all circumstances. She put down her work and came to him. V "You are not wet, are you? It is a dreary day." "Indeed, I wish the children had had a better one for their journey, or that I could have fetched them myself. Are all things ready for them at home, Lindsay ?" "Quite ready." "I need scarcely have asked that question of Our Sister," said Ninian; and his manner expressed affection, quiet indeed, but perfectly at rest and sure-so sure, that no outward show was asked or needed. 66 Will you dine now? or have dinner and tea together when the children arrive? I thought you would like that best, brother?" "Certainly !" The colloquy ceased. Brief and subdued it was, as if they tried to speak on ordinary topics, and just as usual-both feeling over them the shadow of some heavy thought, which each, for the other's sake, tried to lift off, and could not. "It is nearly dark, Lindsay. Had you not better put your work away?" She did so-mechanically-as if simply because Ninian desired her. She was evidently accustomed to do as he said in every thing. Then the brother and sister both sank into silence, sitting on either side the fire. Gray shadows crept over the room, in the dark corners, and about the vacant chairs; but still at the hearth where they two sat it was warm and bright. They were very like one another, though Lindsay Græme was apparently some years the elder. Neither was handsome-in fact, to Ninian might reasonably be applied that adjective which Southrons often give to a thoroughly Scottish face-hard-featured. All the lines were bold, clear, and somewhat rugged, though he was still a young man. But he had that which to his sex is worth ten times more than beauty of feature a stature combining height, strength, dignity, and grace. Yet his was not an ugly physiognomy either. It was a sort of face that you would instinctively trust. Looking at it, you could put your whole worldly estate, your character, your life itself, into his hands, and feel that all were in safe keeping. In fact, a runaway bankrupt, his debtor too, once did so. And Ninian was faithful to the trust, even though it entailed upon him perpetual trouble in settling the af fairs of the absent defaulter, and in exercising some show of authority over two most refractory boys and one girl, who from their London boarding-schools kept up a per petual warfare with their unseen Scottish guardian. Lindsay-her likeness shall follow after her brother's, as, despite her seniority, she ever followed in sweet humility-Lindsay Græme was—just a woman, nothing less, and nothing more! She never was and never had been thought clever or beautiful, and now she had passed the age when she cared to be thought either. Also, there was at times a look in her face which seemed as if not age alone had produced the softened calm it wore-this sealing up of all youth's restless emotions into one serene repose. What ever trouble had swept over her, it had left no bitterness, no heartlessness, scarcely even grief. It was probably that one-the most sanctifying woe of all-when the angel of death, reascending, opens heaven, and suffers a portion of heaven's light to fall on those looking sorrowfully upward, whose faces, like that of Moses, bear some trace of this brightness evermore. For her outward appearance, it was just ordinary enough; you would not notice her, except, perhaps, for the grave neatness of her black dress-she always wore black; or for a certain sweetness in her voice, which ever pierced through the Babel of all other voices in the room, like a drop of clear water falling on a crystal floor. For the rest of her looks, she had a fair skin, flaxen hair, that would always be flaxen-never gray. She generally wore a sort of half-cap of black lace, which, though she probably did not know it, was the most becoming head-tire a lady of her age and complexion could have chosen. Nothing broke the silence, except the occasional falling of a coal from the fire, or the cat jumping from her doze on the hearth up to Ninian's knee, whence she was not displaced. It argues well for a young man's disposition when he is amicably disposed towards dumb animals-especially cats. "Half an hour yet!" said Ninian, looking at his watch. "I can walk to the coach-office in ten minutes; but it is better to be before than after the time. Let us have tea quite ready, and the fire bright. I want the children to feel that they have come home—to a cheerful home." "You are right, brother, quite right. He would have said so." "I think he would. And since they are younger than we, and have been away during all the trouble which we two have shared together, we can not expect them to feel exactly as we do. And, now they are coming home, we must try to make it a happy home to them, as it was in our father's lifetime." "Yes, Ninian, we will. And we must never let them |