er, you will answer his bell before
you answer mine. The usual changes of linen are, of course, ready in the
wardrobe there? Very good. Go now, and tell the cook to prepare a little
dinner; and get a bottle of the old Madeira out of the cellar. You will
least, in this room. These two gentlemen will be best pleased to dine
together. Return here in five minutes' time, in case you are wanted; and
show my guest, Peter, that I am right in believing you to be a good
nurse as well as a good servant."

The silent and surly Peter brightens under the expression of the
Master's confidence in him, as the guide brightened under the influence
of the Master's caressing touch. The two men leave the room together.

We take advantage of the momentary silence that follows to introduce
ourselves by name to our host, and to inform him of the circumstances
under which we happen to be visiting Shetland. He listens in his
subdued, courteous way; but he makes no inquiries about our relatives;
he shows no interest in the arrival of the Government yacht and the
Commissioner for Northern Lights. All sympathy with the doings of
the outer world, all curiosity about persons of social position and
notoriety, is evidently at an end in Mr. Dunross. For twenty years the
little round of his duties and his occupations has been enough for him.
Life has lost its priceless value to this man; and when Death comes to
him he will receive the king of terrors as he might receive the last of
his guests.

"Is there anything else I can do," he says, speaking more to himself
than to us, "before I go back to my books?"

Something else occurs to him, even as he puts the question. He addresses
my companion, with his faint, sad smile. "This will be a dull life, I am
afraid, sir, for you. If you happen to be fond of angling, I can offer
you some little amusement in that way. The lake is well stocked with
fish; and I have a boy employed in the garden, who will be glad to
attend on you in the boat."

My friend happens to be fond of fishing, and gladly accepts the
invitation. The Master says his parting words to me before he goes back
to his books.

"You may safely trust my man Peter to wait on you, Mr. Germaine, while
you are so unfortunate as to be confined to this room. He has the
advantage (in cases of illness) of being a very silent, undemonstrative
person. At the same time he is careful and considerate, in his own
reserved way. As to what I may term the lighter d