ut you mustna fret yoursel' sick after him."

"Me! Not likely!"

"He was bonnie enou', and he had siller--plenty o' siller!"

"I'm no' thinkin' o' the siller, Feyther! Na, na, siller isn't in the
matter, but--

"When your lover rins over the sea,
He may never come back again;
But this, or that, will na matter to me,
For my heart! My heart is my ain!"

"Then a's weel, lassie. I'll just creep into Neil's bed, for I dinna
want to wake your mither for either this, or that, or ony ither thing.
Good night, dearie! You're a brave lassie! God bless you!"

CHAPTER V

CHRISTINE AND ANGUS

They did not separate, as if nothing had happened.
A sorrow we have looked in the face, can harm us no more.

Perhaps Christine was not so brave as her father thought, but she had
considered the likelihood of such a situation, and had decided that
there was no dealing with it, except in a spirit of practical life.
She knew, also, that in the long run sentiment would have to give way
to common sense, and the more intimate she became with the character
of Angus Ballister, the more certain she felt that his love for her
would have to measure itself against the pride and will of his uncle,
and the tyranny of social estimates and customs.

She was therefore not astonished that Angus had left both himself and
her untrammeled by promises. He was a young man who never went to meet
finalities, especially if there was anything unpleasant or serious in
them; and marriage was a finality full of serious consequences, even
if all its circumstances were socially proper. And what would Society
say, if Angus Ballister made a fisher-girl his wife!

"I wasna wise to hae this, or that, to do wi' the lad," she
whispered, and then after a few moments' reflection, she added, "nor
was I altogether selfish i' the matter. Neil relied on me making a
friend o' him, and Mither told me she knew my guid sense wad keep the
lad in his proper place. Weel, I hae done what was expected o' me, and
what's the end o' the matter, Christine? Ye hae a sair heart, lass,
an' if ye arena in love wi' a lad that can ne'er mak' you his wife, ye
are precariously near to it." Then she was silent, while lacing her
shoes, but when this duty was well finished, she continued, "The lad
has gien me many happy hours, and Christine will never be the one to
say, or even think, wrang o' him; we were baith in the fault--if it be
a fault--as equally in the fault, as t