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the perfection of art that almost approached to gen- those days life was simples, are ius, but did not attain it; wbile a third section de haps, but less luxurios, o As nied his claim to rank as a tragedian at all, either in Nowadays the coast towns in Fm the first or the second rank. But this is always the able. In summer they are both u s fate of the living. The ill-natured too commonly tacles of herrings, not in the T a judge of the great and the ambitious by their worst come in in glistening sboals in the boa . performances, and ignore their best. The grave, but in the hideous course of eco however, reverses these judgments; and when the tion and traffic. Salt and seik, a tongue and the pen are silent, and the great actor armed with knives, operating upon the is and the great poet have gone to that bourne - where less - drave," line all the story Ele saa the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are send up to heaven an unsavory taan. at rest," the spirit of detraction is awed by the sane- breathe herrings, if you are o E z tity of the tomb, and the world remembers them no yourself in the season on that too prette longer by their worst but by their best efforts, and Bat it was not so fifty years ago Than begins to think that perhaps it will never look upon rings came in to be eaten, not to be sicei ini their like again. Though the earth is still fresh barrels, and they had not got the soetka over the grave of Charles Kean, this result is al- everything. There was no lactative si a ready obvious; and when the day comes when those on, no salt and pangent harvest-se de who were young and ardent, and in the first flush of bat the homely wynds were passable, era in manhood and womanhood, at the time, not now re-mer, though cleanliness as far frea peria E mote, when Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean revived at place of the herrings there was the 21, the Princess's the masterpieces of Shakespeare, shall which sent out its ships periodbelly, na arrive at old age, the world will doubtless hear from back with corresponding regularity the sun their lips, when grown garrulous, the same laments men to their families when the expectae : of the degeneracy of the stage, and the same recol- year vas over. It was a trade mare pics lections of those palmy" days of their youth when inore dangerous, and leae disagreeable sati Kean, as Hamlet, as King Jobn, as Cardinal Wok the bystander. Nobody sonli refuse to lesa sey, and as Louis XI., delighted the town; and ested in the solemn ships going forth to the when Mrs. Kean, as Katharine of Aragon, as Her-gle with the ice, and the storms, ani te se mione, as Portia, and as Rosalind, drew from all of the sea; nor in their exciting retan, hearts a genuine and enthusiastic applause.

well-known rig would beave slowly in > We cannot say that we look forward with hope- broad Firth, under eager telescopes, which repet fulness to any considerable revival of the Shakespear-the signs she earried, the jubilant garlaian ian drama in our day. Musie, the ballet, the farce, mast, sign of a successful fishing, or the me and the vaudeville, native and imported, are more fiag half-mast high, which thrilled the The Consonant to modern taste than the grandeur and with alarm, no one knowing whose son or badala magnificence of Shakespeare. There may be, of or what family's father it might be. Ai course, a reaction; but it will require great actors almost more exciting, and certainly more trop to bring it about, and since Charles Kean has left us would thrill through the little salt-water place we know not where to look for them.

& gale came on suddenly at some time when boats" were at sea. So that the stomato

without its points of human interest, bet ne sy THE SHIP'S DOCTOR.

herring barrels, and hideous trade consequat tax BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

upon, bad appeared in the stony little strutt The Gusbat House stood, as its name denotes, at And to Nora Sinclair it was a very serem the angle where two roads met. These were pleas-place. She was fond of the fisher-folk, Tom ant country roads both, - one, shadowed by trees had known all her life, and who, for their bere and there, threading through rich and broad were fond of her. She and ber mother Feren fields, led up into the wealthy inland country, the princesses, as it were, in the parish; for the po rich beart of Fife; the other, with scattered cot-ing minister was unmarried and unsymal tages instead of the trees, growing after a while In those days, before the advent of King Herre closer and closer together, was the straight road to even the position of the minister Fas die the - town," and was open to the sea view and the There was no dissent in the place, except the du sea breezes. The town was the little town of An- Episcopal church, - English chapel," a f** struther on the Fife coast : the sea was the Firth called, to which some of the adjacent gentryck of Forth, balf ocean, half river: the time was fifty and which everybody regarded with half indle years ago. In this locality, and at that distant half contemptious tolerance. It was tauti period, happened the very brief and simple story I mitted as a kind of necessity that the fine perf have now to tell.

should frequent this little conventicle; the came. In the Gushat House lived Mrs. Sinclair, and people granted then the indulgence with Nora, her daughter. The house was, in its humble smile at their teakness of caste and training, way, a kind of jointure-bouse, though it belonged oecupied the parish church themselves to no potent family or county magnate. It had masses, filling the pews with characteristiche been for generations - since it was built, indeed - faces, and the air with a faint breath of asb 22 the refuge of one widow or other, who had suffi- ; and salt water, - the inalienable odor of a $ cient interest in the place to remain near itor ing population. Nora Sinclair was in East some connection with the soil. The present occu- a young woman of refined tastes; bi pant had been the wife of the minister, and was the never had her eyes or her senses opene daughter of one of the smaller proprietors in the little imperfections. She took all the inte neighborhood. She was a woman whom the county daughter of the place in its vicissitudes, did not disdain to visit and honor; but yet she was the boats and their crews, and was as anxi not rich, nor a great lady in her own person. Ia it blew a gale as if she herself had known

the intensiv Citudes, and so


was to venture her heart on the dangerous chances the Gushat House, somewhere near the time of the of the sea. Her mother and she lived a not un- early dinner. The fare on Mrs. Sinclair's table was heerful life in the Gushat House, metaphorically homely, but it never occurred to her to grumble at placed, as it was, with one eye on the country and the frequent visitor, or put on company punctilios, one on the sea. The “ families " about were many or even a fresh table-cloth for Willy. The latter of them - connections " of Mrs. Sinclair, who was, was a point upon which the population of the Guas has been said, of a very good stock, - old Auch- shat House were always very easy in their minds; for ntorlie's daughter; and those who were not con- no lady in Fife had a better stock of " napery," and nections were old friends. The mother and daugh- none were more delicately, femininely alive to the ter were not left alone when they had to change to beauties of clean linen. Besides which, everybody the wistful widow's refuge, from the manse. Kind in those days washed at home, and clean table-cloths friends and cheerful company surrounded them. In cost nothing, - a matter of primitive luxury unknown the depth of winter, when the Firth was often in our days. Young Erskine would look in, and black with storms, and the weather too gloomy for nobody was otherwise than pleased to see him ; other enjoyment, the two ladies would go " across ” in people, too, "looked in ” on other days. Sometimes he ferry-boat from Kinghorn to Edinburgh, not there would be two or three strangers, equally unexwithout some trembling for the dangers of the passage, pected and welcome, at the widow's table. There und settle themselves there for a few months, dur- was glorious fish, fresh from the sea, - cod with great ng which time Nora would have het gayeties, and milk-white flakes, and the delicious haddocks of the xe taken to a few balls, and take her share in the Firth, which cost next to nothing, to take the edge pleasures of her youth. Altogether it was a very off the wholesome appetites of these young people; ondurable life.

and savory old Scotch dishes, such as exist no more, It was in Edinburgh she first met with Willy - Scotch collops, brown and fragrant; chickens, Erskine, though he was a neighbor at home. He which were not called chickens, but “hens"; dainty vas one of the Erskines of Drumthwacket, of as curries, in which the homely rural gentry, with sons good a family as any in Fife. One of Mrs. Sinclair's and brothers by the score in India, were as great perplexities was to make out in what way the critics as the old Indians themselves. To the board Erskines and the Auchintorlie family were con- thus spread the country neighbors were always kindly nected, but she never succeeded in clearing it up. welcome; and Mrs. Sinclair took no special notice of That there was some conneetion she was sure, and the frequency with which young Erskine made his Willy was very welcome when he paid those fre- appearance. If Nora was more observant, she was quent visits in Heriot Row, where they were living, also more tolerant than she had been in Edinburgh. and sat so long that Nora grew tired of him, though she did not even seem to dislike it much when he was a handsome young fellow. “ Poor callant, chance brought her in contact with the young stuso far away from home, what would he do but come dent among the rocks, as sometimes happened. and see me, that am his mother's near connection ?" Though that age was not so advanced as our own, Mrs. Sinclair would say. And if she could have it was still possible, even at so rudimentary an epoch, been angry with her Nora, it would have been for to make good use of the sea-coast, and the marine this cause.

creatures which the young man was studying, to "Not 'so very near, mamma," Nora would an- further such encounters. He called them by their, swer“And if all our connections were to come as Latin names when he walked with Nora up to often "

the Gushat House, and Mrs. Sinclair respected his “They all show a very proper feeling, my dear," habits of research. "It's little good he 'll get out of was her mother's reply; and nothing could be more the tangle on the rocks," she would say, “but it shows true. Cousins to the fifth degree always turned up a diligent mind." At which praise Willy would to take care of Nora at her balls, - to dance with blush, and Nora smile. her when there, -- to cheer her mother's solitude But there was no haste, no rush upon the ineviwhen she was gone, according to their several ages table, no rash effort to put it to the touch, to win 'or and sexes. The Sinclairs were a very “ well-con- lose it all. He would have lost his love altogether nected" family, and it was a circumstance which had he been precipitate. Nora was the only child added much to the comfort of their life. : of her mother, who was a widow. She had tender

As for Willy Erskine, he was a very nice young love to guard her, and full freedom to do as she fellow, everybody allowed. He was not rich, to be pleased. She was the favorite of all the fisher-folk, sure. The Drumth wacket housebold was known the beauty of the town, admired, imitated, caressed, not to be a rich one, and he was the third son. But and followed, wherever she went. The Gushat House he was doing what it was the proper thing for a third was the cheeriest little house in all the country-side, son to do. It had not been his vocation to go to and Mrs. Sinclair was the most indulgent mother: India, like his second and fourth brothers, though, naturally, therefore, Nora had no wish, not the most no doubt, that would have been the best way ; and distant inclination, to sacrifice all this to become any New Zealand and Australia had not been discovered, man's wife. Love lays hold upon some people with so to speak, in those days. His eldest brother was a violent hand, but with others has to go softly, and at the Bar, and Johnny, the fifth, was to be the clergy-eschew all turbulence. Nora began to like young man of the family ; so that Willy's lot was clear be- Erskine's society. She began to feel a certain lightfore him, even had he not been impelled towards it by ness diffuse itself over her heart when she saw him a naturally scientific turn of mind. He was pursus coming down the long country road, crossing the ing his medical studies at Edinburgh University dur shadow of the trees. When winter came, and these ing those years when Nora and her mother oame in same trees were bare, and the journey to Heriot the winter to Heriot Row. In summer it was quite a Row drew near, it was a pleasure to her to remempracticable thing to walk from Drumthwacket, which ber that Erskine was already there. Not that she was only sixteen miles off, down to Anstruther on went so far as to form a good resolution to be kinder one pretence or other, - an expedition which made to him, to permit his attendance more willingly. it quite natural, as well as necessary, to look in" at She was only pleased to think that he would be at hand to be snubbed or encouraged as the humor families till he's a married man. You're but rodi might seize her, — a very improper spirit, as the and there's no hurry except for that. When 11 youthful reader will perceive. But Nora was far a young woman myself, and needing doctor 1 from being a perfect young woman. Thus things even a family connection would have led me te went on in a leisurely way. There was no hurry; in a man that was without a wife." even Willy himself, though he was deeply in earnest, “Here's a man that has no mind to be witir: was aware that there was no hurry. If any competi- wife,” cried Willy. Perhaps he was a little el.1 tor should appear ready to carry her off suddenly, with drinking his own health, or some one an then Willy Erskine would wake up too, and Ay “I wish it only depended on me - » violent and desperate to the assault. But no such “ You can but try," said one, patting him catastrophe was threatening. Nora, everybody said, shoulder. “Faint heart never won fair ladr,'a was " fancy free.” Even her saucy sallies, her little another. “ I would not wonder if it was allez caprices, proved this. Her lovers were her friends, a year ago !” said a third; and various look a in a quaint rural sort of way. She did not wish to veiled, some openly significant, were turned opet cast any of them from the latter eminence by re corner where, amid a little knot of girls, Vand garding them in the former capacity. She might apart. It was no revelation to Nora; be: 5 go on wandering through the metaphorical forest for thought of being thus openly indicated set berpel years, some people said, and take the crooked stick up in arms. She to marry Willy Erskine fac at the end. Whether he was the crooked stick or reason whatsoever, except her sovereign grat e not, Willy Erskine, like a wise general, kept a wary pleasure! She to take him because he was a de eye on her tactics, and held himself ready to take and wanted a wife! She had to dance the fine advantage of any weakening in her defences. It with him, when the room was cleared after sur had begun years ago, when they were boy and girl; and Mrs. Sinclair went to the piano, - parts it might last till they were middle-aged for anything cause he was the hero of the occasion and sheet that could be said to the contrary. He was always daughter of the house, partly because they were at Nora's disposal, to do anything she chose to ask old friends; but she would scarcely grant the him, and she was always friendly to Willy, ready to fellow a look, even when her hand was in his as stand up for him when he was absent, and to give pretty, animated dance. And Willy in his firs" him the most solemn good advice when he permitted ment held that soft hand longer, and clasped her the opportunity. Nora might have been his closer than was at all needful. Nora's girlish tax grandmother, to judge by the prudent counsel sbe blazed up; but he could not see it, the foolish up gave him, and would try his devotion the next His own heat and ardor long suppressed, the por moment by laying upon him the most frivolous and ant intoxication of all those friendly plaudita 2 troublesome commissions. Thus the time went on flattering good wishes, the seduction of the moe: imperceptibly, marking its progress on these two at when all were gone but himself, and the carefu least by no remarkable events. Nora was brides- tress of the house had begun to put away the per maid so often to her youthful friends that she began nants of the feast and lock up her "garde-vin." to declare loudly that she had forestalled her own too much for him. Willy was so far left to bine. luck, and would never be a bride, – but without as to arrest Nora in the hall when she had any sort of faith in her own prediction. Yet, though good night to the last guest. He was by mi this state of things was a very pleasant one, it was leaving himself, when he stopped her, and took te a necessity that, one time or other, it should come hand." Say a kind word to me, Nora," he cha to an end.

drawing her into the dimly lighted little room 3* | The end was brought about, as it happened, by hind, which was called the library. Mrs. Sinclas another event, of great importance to young Erskine, was in the dining-room close by, with her confider and in which Nora and her mother, as in duty tial handmaiden, putting away the things to bound, took a lively interest. Willy's professional could hear her voice where they stood, and they studies came to a conclusion, and the ladies went, I was no harm in this little chance interview. **! well pleased, to witness the curious ceremonial at a kind word to me, Nora," he pleaded; " you kn which he was "capped,” as it is called,- the out- how fond I am of you. I've never thout! ward sign and token of his having attained the dig- another since I was a boy at school. I've loves nity of M. D. He had passed his examination with forward to this for years and years." credit, and his friends were proud. At night there “What have you looked forward to, Mr. La was a little party of Fife folk at Heriot Row. The kine?” said Nora, with the insolence of power good people went to tea and supper, and made one “Nora - Nora, don't speak like that!" cried substantial but light, and one still more substantial young man. “I'm not worth it, but you must and very -heavy, meal. Then the health of the me— you know you must take me; you re young doctor was drunk with kindly enthusiasm. / world to me. What do I care for my degree « Willy, take you my advice and get a wife next,” | anything else but for you? Say you 'll take ? said one of the genial guests, and the suggestion fellow, Nora? You know you are all the wor was received with general applause.

me." “A doctor without a wife is like rigging without “Indeed, I know nothing of the kind," said a ship," said another adviser. “There's two pro- “I am very sleepy, and I don't care much fessions that must aye have the ballast of a petticoat. your degree. Must take you, indeed! I ne As for a soldier, like your brother Sandy, he's bet- anything that I must do. What with their bus ter without one, if he could be brought to think it; and their talk, and their nonsense, they've bil and John will be the laird, and he can take bis your head. Good night." time. But a minister and a doctor have no choice. And she went away from him, while he sto You'll ask us to your wedding next, if you 'll be looked after her, stupefied. “ Nora !" he said, Lguided by me."

voice of such pain that Mrs. Sinclair heard, . • What Captain Maitland says is very true," said the things" on the table. She came in whi Mrs. Sinclair; "a doctor 's never well received in stood still, haughty and offended, at the door

ther saw at once what was the matter. She | Nora, bide a moment; if you turn me away without pught it was a lovers' quarrel, and she saw there any hope - by — ! There's the Pretty Peggy sails d been enough of it for the night.

from Anster on Saturday. I'll go to Greenland in "I thought you had gone with the Lindsays, her, and never see you more.” illy," she said, looking at him in her motherly “And why should I want to see you more ? ” said zy, “and you must be wearied, and fit for your Nora. " What do I care for your Pretty Peggy? d. What's Nora making her little moue at now? It will do you a great deal of good, Mr. Erskine. It at never mind her, my man; to-morrow's a new will teach you that you can't have everything your

own way." “Yes, to-morrow's a new day," cried Willy. “I'll “Is this your last word, Nora ? ” cried the poor ke no thought of what I've heard to-night. To- fellow with glistening eyes. If she had looked him Lorrow I 'm coming back."

in the face, Nora's heart would have given way. And with that he rushed away. As for Nora, she But she felt her weakness, and would not look him w up stairs, and went to bed, that she might not in the face. She stood by the table, turning over me in for that little sermon which was on her and over in her hand an Indian toy of carved ivory, other's lips. When she had shut herself into her with her eyes fixed upon it, as if it was the intrica*vn room she had a good cry. She could not have cies of the pattern that involved life and death, 'Id any one the reason of her perversity. She was and then she said slowly, while the blood seemed to igry with herself and Willy, and the guests who ebb away from her heart, “ I have nothing more to id put such nonsense in his head, and all the say." orld. Must take him; very likely! If she, Nora In another moment the door shut violently, and inclair, ever had anything to say to a man who | Willy Erskine was gone. The sound went througb ime to her with such a plea! She paused on the the house like a thunder-clap, and threw down with Large of a petulant vow. Perhaps, on the whole, it its violent concussion the castle of cards in which ould be as well not to make any oaths on the subject. Nora had been entrenching herself. She sank down nd, luckily, at that moment she fell asleep, which upon a chair, stupefied, and listened to the step that as the easiest way out of the dilemma. To-morrow went echoing along the street. Was he gone? rould be, as Mrs. Sinclair said, a new day.

Was he really gone? and forever? Gone to GreenBut, unfortunately, to-morrow is not always a new land in the Pretty Peggy, into the ice where men ay. When Nora got up in the chilly spring morn- and ships perished, into the whaling boats where ng she was, on the whole, rather more irritated and they sank and were lost forever, — should she never etulant than she had been the evening before. As see him more? or Mrs. Sinclair, it was her fixed opinion that the “You've made the bed, and you must lie on it," oung folk should be left to themselves to make up said Mrs. Sinclair, when she heard all, with an heir little matters. “ They know each other's ways indignation that was soon lost in sympathy. But jest,” she said ; “older folk do more harm than Nora would not give way either to the sympathy or ood when they interfere.” So wben Willy came the indignation. She declared steadily that she n pale and breathless, the kind woman withdrew would do the same over again if it was in her erself, that the two might get it over undisturbed. power. “ What right had he to come making claims, t was not a new day for young Erskine any more and speaking of his rights to me?” she said. “If a ban it was for Nora. It was a feverish supplement lad follows a girl, does that give him a right to her o last night. He had not perhaps gone to bed — whether or no?" This was said with burning almly after all his excitement as a girl has to do. eyes into which tears refused to come. But yet Chere was a rere-supper somewhere to which his Nora shed tears enough over it. She took immense riends had dragged him, and where probably Wil-pains privately to find out when the Pretty Peggy y's brain had been heated by strong drinks. The sailed, and to know if she had shipped a doctor benorning found him parched with mental impatience fore she left Anster pier. Not for her life would she ind suspense, as well as with a certain degree of have asked the doctor's name, but she satisfied herbodily feverishness and misery. It seemed to his self so far. And when the fact could no longer be heated eyes as if Nora meant to jilt him after all his doubted, her heart grew so sick that she could not levotion. He swore a big oath to himself as he go home. The Sinclairs had friends in England," rushed along to Heriot Row. “If she 'll not take - a vague sort of expression used by the untravelled ne now, after all," said Willy," by - I'll go off to Scotch then, as untravelled islanders nowadays sea, and I 'll never be heard of more.” In this mut- talk of “the Continent." Nora persuaded her ual mood the two met. It was not an amiable in- mother that it would be pleasant to “go south," and terview on either side. The young lover took up pay the long-promised visit. She was glad to go precisely the line of argument which was most prej away, glad to be anywhere out of the range of those udicial to him. He pleaded his faithful services, people and places with which Willy Erskine's name his devotion, which had lasted for years. He estab- was so closely connected. But the other day it lished a claim upon Nora, which she was not the seemed he had been so jubilant, so full of good prosgirl to put up with And she, on her side, scornfully pects and high hopes. Now he was out upon the denied any claim he bad upon her. “If that is Northern seas, surgeon in a whaling-ship, like any what you call love," said the indignant maiden, “to poor student or broken man. And he Drumfollow a girl about, whether she likes or not, and thwacket's son! and whose fault was it all? Nora then to tell her she must take you, to pay you for was ashamed to confront even the familiar rocks it!” This, alas ! was not the way of settling their that knew him so well, — that knew how she had affairs.

met him (by accident), and strayed with him along “ Nora," cried the young man, desperate, “this is the sea-verge, with the salt spray now and then the moment that's to settle my life. It's little mat- dashed into their fresh faces, and the surge rising to ter for you, but for me it's life or death. I'm not their feet. She dragged her home-loving mother asking you to take me now,- say a year, say even about from one “connection” to another all the two years, I'll be content, but I have to know - summer through, enjoying the visits but little, poor

child! As for Mrs. Sinclair, a British matron of the scopes. They exchange i opinions adut. 221 present day would not be more disconsolate, nor her holl, and her manser at ung lur. feel berself more alien in the heart of French society, ing by, was half crazed witla suspen than was the Scottish gentlewoman among her news flew throagh tâe tot, Wingat southern connections. Their ways, their accent, wynds and cottages. It is the Fret. their mode of living, were all discordant to her. last. *If I were to live all my life among those English," It would be vain to describe the exa1 she said, " I think I would rather die.” Her soul which Nora, like many abother woman. 0-1 longed for the tents of Jacob and the dwellings of news. The other womea were the s i Jerusalem. “But if I were not to humor my own who had a right to be mored. Sie hat - 1 bairn," added Mrs. Sinclair, with pathos, w who right. She had never spoken even to be 264 sbould huruor her?" Nora was her only child; the Pretty Peggy. She had been too pred somebow or other she had made a mistake in ber to betray the smallest interest in the mir| young life. Cloudy had come up over the gun at her lost love ; and she did not even act: the moment when that sun should have been bright- Mrs. Sinclair was aware that willy was est. Her mother could have given her the best of the returning seamen out of the icy sest s good advice, but she chose to give her something to invent a reason for her anxiety as the ! better instead, she “humored” Nora. She was near the port. "Willy Morrison is in beber tender partisan, right or wrong., She took up said Nora. “I'd like to go down and se her cause and supported her silently against ber come in. His mother will be so happy own reproaches and all the world. And that is the Morrison's mother had been Nora's nurse, way of healing the wounded, if their friends was her excuse. but knew.

“Well, well,” said Mrs. Sinclair, with an imp It way the end of summer before they returned to unusual to her, “I wanted you at home bas the Goshat Hlouse. And then, whether it was that noon; but Nancy will be proud to see you ** they were unexpected, or whether from her mis- warm heart to your foster-brother. Be txi deeds towards Willy Erskine, as Nora thought, few soon as you can. I would not be surprised people came to see them at first, and nobody so friend was to look in to tea. much as mentioned the Drumthwacket family. The Nora gave her mother a startled look, of name of Erskine was never, as Nora thought, named Mrs. Sinclair took no notice. She looked a before her; and she felt herself more guilty still as she had her secret too; and most probably she 31 seemed thus to read her own condemnation in the well as her daughter did who was coming ? eyes of othery. But now the turn of the season tranquil Firth in the returning ship. Dat 9 had arrived; when she cast wistful looks from the mother expect him too? Could it be possibis, : corner of the garden up the long country road, going all the tragic hours that were past, that thing "north," as those geographical geafaring populations fall so calmly into the old routine, and Willy Ls described it, a leaf would now and then flicker down after his voyage, look in to tea? She did not through the sunny air, a sign that autumn had come. if she walked on air or solid ground when she sai A few weeks more, and the Pretty Peggy might ber way down again to the pier. If that were futter up the Firth with all her sails set, like a fine the end of it, of what use had been all the lady coming into a ball-room, as the sailors delighted of those silent months ? Life seemed to swim ben to say; and if Nora penitent, with softness in her her like a dream and confused phantasmagu. cyes, were by, could any one doubt that the eager / she thought, but yet a subtle sense of happiness face of the ship's doctor would expand too, and that gathering at her heart. He was coming to som the evil day, would come to an end? No one could was so near; and all those ghosts would have roubted it but Nora. It was as certain that it their gloomy wings and disappear out of 5 would all be made up as that the Pretty Peggy would / Willy Erskine once more looked in at the come safe out of the icy seas. To be sure, ships House. She went quickly down along the were lost there sometimes, sometimes detained deserted road to the pier, where the women among the ice. But look what a season it has been ! | crowding. The Pretty Peggy could not rek. Even the men's wives were easy in their minds, and harbor yet for more than an hour; but se sung by their wheels, or mended the nets at their much nearer her, to be ready to meet the new cottage doors, and looked over the smooth Firth hear that all was well five minutes earlier, with contented hearts. A week or two more, and pensation enough for the wives. They made the seamen, with their wages, and their curiosities, ant little speeches to Nora as she came do and their rejoicing, would have come home.

them. " Ah, Miss Nora, the day will come There was not a man's wife in the Pretty Peggy you 'll be looking out for a man of your who was so anxious as Nora. But then it was her one. " And I hope with a' my heart it! fault. It was she who had sent him to sea, - he man and a pleasant day," added another who was no seaman, he whom a wealthier lot Miss Nora's man will never be a seafaring awaited. And perhaps he would look bitterly upon ours, to make her heart sair," said a thirt. the woman whose caprice had wrought him so much it was a grand captain of a frigate in harm. This was the thought that made her heart lace," was the ambitious aspiration of Aan ache, and made the day so long for her. She used son. “Sure I am, I didna bring up to walk out to the pier to watch the sunset reflec- young lady for less than that." She was tions, and listen in silence to the prognostications of and this was the pleasant chatter that place the fishers and seaman about. When they prophe- went among them, from lip to lip.. sied a gale, Nora's heart would beat wild with alarm; I want to see Willy come in from when they gave their word the storm was past, a age, nurse," said Nora. What a lying, hush as of a consoled child would come over her. speech it was! and what a true one. At last there came & speck on the horizon, upon Nancy had time to answer, one of the which all those ancient mariners tixed their tale outlook threw down his telescope w

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