The boat began to move off toward the ship, and Kirsty, suddenly realizing that the waste of waters had already begun to roll between her and home and grannie, began to cry quietly.

'And so you two are starting out to make your fortunes,' said the sonorous voice of Mr. Brander. He meant the two youths, for he never would have thought of such as Kirsty in such a connection.

'I hope we shall do so, sir,' said Robert Sinclair.

'It should not be a matter of hope, but of will, young man,' rejoined the senior. 'If a man means to get on, he has only got to say, "I will get on, at any cost," and then he does get on. That's what I said when I left home. I left a poorer home than either of yours, I reckon. And I've not done so badly, and I've not done yet.'

Even as he spoke his face looked a little sour in the moonlight. For two thoughts rose in his mind and troubled him. First, that his earliest business connection chose to consider him a dishonourable man, and always said so, and that, though he denied the justice of the opinion, or at least always talked about 'charity' when he heard of it, he could not deny the facts on which it was based! Second, that his own boyish

ambition had been to buy 'the Hall' of his own native village, and that by some freak of circumstance, just before he became possessed of means so to do, it had been purchased by the trustees of a great charitable association, and converted by them into an idiot asylum, whose poor patients wandered aimlessly in the sweet parterres which were to him as Naboth's vineyard was to King Ahab.

But while Robert Sinclair repeated to himself Mr. Brander's asseveration, and only hoped that it might be true in his, Robert's, own case, Tom Ollison had scarcely heard it; Tom stood up in the darkness, with his head bared to the silent stars, and in his blue eyes there was a strange moisture which melted down the lights of Lerwick town into one luminous cloud. Kirsty Mail looked up at him, awed. Was he praying? she thought. He was, though he scarcely knew it himself. But perhaps no prayer goes so straight to God as the wordless aspiration after His will, the blindfold dedication thereto of one's secret self and one's unknown future.

HE voyage to Edinburgh was got over -as such voyages are in the lives of

those to whom they are adventurous novelties with mingled raptures and qualms, with expressions of delight in 'a life on the ocean wave,' sinking into inward resolves that, if one ever gets safely to land, one will never set foot on a ship again, unless, indeed, it might be to return whence one came, never more to depart hence. Such resolves, however, are generally quite forgotten within an hour after landing. For our memory always colours a sea voyage with the glowing pleasure of its close,-the arrival, as the Psalmist expresses it, 'at the haven where we would be.'

Mrs. Brander, who had remained with friends in Edinburgh while her husband and daughter

59

made their trip to Ultima Thule, was down at the docks, awaiting them in her carriage. Mrs. Mail, Kirsty's aunt, was there also, standing close beside the carriage. Mrs. Brander had been speaking to her, and, after Mr. Brander had exchanged a few words with his wife, Mrs. Brander called Mrs. Mail again, and, with an eye critically fixed on Kirsty, told the aunt that it had just occurred to her that if, in a day or two, she and her niece came up to where Mrs. Brander was staying, she might—Mrs. Brander could not promise she would, but she might— receive a proposal which would be most advantageous to her. Then the Brander carriage drove away, Mr. Brander shouting back to Robert Sinclair, 'Shall be in London next week —and mind you don't forget me—but I shan't let you.'

'Why, aunt, do you know that lady?' whispered Kirsty, so overcome by the plumes on Mrs. Brander's bonnet, and the gold bracelet on the wrist visible at the carriage door, that she did not notice her hard tones, nor the absence of kindliness in her words.

'I go charing sometimes for the family the lady is visiting,' answered the aunt; 'so she knew my face, Kirsty, and when she saw me at the docks to-day, she called me, thinking I might

have been sent after her with some message. Then I told her I was expecting of a young niece a-looking for a place. It would be the making of you if you got employed by that kind of people, Kirsty.' Mrs. Mail was meanwhile making suggestions of curtsies towards Robert Sinclair, who appeared in her eyes as one travelling with Mr. Brander's party-perhaps even of his family-for the carriage had gone off so laden with luggage that it was quite likely that any youth-even though a son-should have been left to follow on foot. Mrs. Mail did not

heed Tom Ollison.

'Where are your things, Kirsty?' she asked. 'I reckon you'll not have more than you can carry.'

from you
you here,

Kirsty had a strong, heavy box and a basket. She and her aunt might just manage to carry these between them, but they would certainly require all their strength. 'Well, I suppose we'll part Kirsty,' said Robert Sinclair. 'We are going straight to the railway station, and Mr. Brander said we should only just have time to get some refreshment before the London train starts. good-bye, Kirsty, and I hope you'll get a good place and do well.'

So,

He did not shake hands with Kirsty. He