The doctor had been wondering what Mr. Davidson's plans for the future would be. Would it be part of his punishment that the father would take his child to far-away Skaguay and keep her to himself? It would be natural enough, perhaps, but he thought with a pang of the difference it would make to him. Life at Hunters' Brae would be sad for him without the girl. This matter weighed heavily upon his mind, but he dared not speak upon the subject for fear of hastening a decision.
At last one day Mr. Davidson spoke his mind. He must go back to Alaska, and would take Marjory with him, but—and here Dr. Hunter's heart almost stopped beating—he would retire from business. He had enough and to spare for Marjory and himself, and he looked forward to settling down at home.
"Here, here!" interrupted the doctor then. "The Brae will eventually be Marjory's. If you can forgive the past, Hugh, make this your home. You shall not regret it, I promise you. I do believe I have laid that old ghost of jealousy at last. All I have is to be Marjory's. My old age would be comfortless indeed if I were doomed to spend it here alone. Perhaps that is what I deserve, but do give the old place a trial. The child loves it."
"It is associated in my mind with the happiest time of my life," replied Mr. Davidson earnestly. "No other place could seem so like home to me."
And so it was settled. Marjory was delighted at the idea of travelling with her father—of crossing that wonderful sea which had brought her beloved. She was enchanted by the prospect, but, as she said, it would not have been so delightful if she had not been able to look forward to coming home again at the end of her travels—home to her uncle at Hunters' Brae.
There was a certain clause in the doctor's will which he discussed with his niece and her father before they started on their journey. He had made the stipulation that, when the time came that Marjory should become possessor of Hunters' Brae, and of all that he had to leave, she should adopt the surname of Hunter. Marjory clapped her hands when she heard this.
"There's the prophecy again," she cried, quoting,—
"'The Hunters' line shall ne'er decline
Till the muir doth pass away.'"
"Nonsense!" replied the doctor. "It is merely a question of title and property. Had there been a male Hunter living, the Brae would have been his; and it is stated in the original deeds that, in the event of the sole descendant being a girl, she must take the family name, and give it to her husband when she marries. The person who wrote that rubbish probably knew of this when he scribbled his so-called prophecy."
"You are always so scornful about those prophecies, uncle dear," said Marjory, laughing. "I think they are so interesting and so true. I shall copy them out and put my notes to them, as my grandmother did."