OUR MOTHER'S ROOM. 41 



moved painfully forward, tears falling silently down 

 her cheeks, her figure draped in black, a Shetland shawl 

 gathered around her, the matronly cap of olden times 

 set upon her luxuriant hair, her beautiful face wearing 

 a sad yet sweet expression. 



What a contrast her appearance (as / first remember 

 it) from what it must have been twenty-four years 

 earlier, when — a happy, high-spirited girl — she came 

 to make the " melancholy Isles " her home, and 

 laughed over her wedding-gear going to the bottom of 

 Lerwick harbour in a storm ! 



No lives being lost, the hopeful young bride could 

 make merry over the loss of finery, and could gaily 

 describe the woebegone appearance of her bandboxes 

 when the vessel was "floated" again, and they were 

 restored to their owner. 



Almost a quarter of a century had passed since her 

 marriage till my earliest recollections of her, and it had 

 been an eventful period to her. But to return to per- 

 sonal reminiscences. 



We followed our mother to the bureau, and watched 

 her open one of the larger drawers. From thence she 

 took a Bible, — not new, it had been lying with a pile 

 of worn frocks and toys — and going back to her place 

 by the table, she wrote my name in it and gave me 

 the book without a word. 



It lies before me now. There is a name before 

 mine, written by the same mother's hand ; but it is 

 the same name in part, and had been that of a sister 

 dead and gone. 



