s nature. In some respects, he
thought Ragon Torr the greatest sailor that left Stromness harbor, and
Ragon was willing enough to admit that John "was a fine fellow," and
to give his hand at the dominie's direction.

Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as
Peter told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand,
Ragon's passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter
jealousy. For, though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret,
he had come to look upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter
wished it so, and he now imagined that it was also the only thing on
earth he cared for.

Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was
rarely he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too
ready to speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an
open quarrel with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel
words, that hurt like wounds, had passed between them on the public
streets and quays.

Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast.
He knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the
wrong. In Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind
of nameless dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of
it, even after he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship
for the Arctic seas.

Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until
the steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready
money necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat
singing and knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison
went up and down her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of
John's anxieties. Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble
about Margaret, and said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the
end a' things will be well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill
words had not greatly frightened them--"The wrath o' man shall praise
Him," read old Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction,
"an' the rest o' the wrath he will restrain."

CHAPTER III.

It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at
home until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out
towards Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor,
and blessed him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days,
but he had a feeling to-night that she would be abl