ine that night like a new man, for

There is no pleasure like the pain
Of being loved, and loving.

Then every day seemed to be happier than the last. The child was
sunshine in the house, whatever the weather might be. His thin, soft
voice, his light step, above all, his shy little laugh, went to their
hearts like music. He had only learned to laugh since he came to
Culraine. Margot remembered the first time she had heard him laugh.
She said he had been almost afraid, and that he had looked inquiringly
into her face, as if he had done something he should not have done.

So the weeks and the months wore away, and the winter came, but the
weather was sunny and not very cold, and in early December Ruleson
wrapped his grandson up in one of his own pilot coats, and took him to
the boat, and carried him to the fishing ground, and showed him how to
cast and draw the line. And Jamie took naturally to the sea, and loved
it, and won Ruleson's heart over again, whenever he begged to go with
him.

Then Christmas and New Year were approaching, and there were many
other pleasures and interests. Faith's marriage was drawing near, and
she was frequently at Ruleson's, for the girl relied on Christine's
help and advice in all matters concerning the new life to which she
was going. This year also, Christmas was made memorable by a box full
of gifts which came all the way from Rome, with the compliments and
good will of the Ballisters and which contained many remembrances for
the villagers. For Ruleson himself there was a fine barometer, to
Margot a brooch and earrings of white cameo, and to Christine some
lovely lace, and a set of scarlet coral combs, beads, and earrings. To
Christine's care there was also intrusted a box full of Roman ribbons,
scarves, and neckties, their wonderful hues making them specially
welcome gifts to people so fond of brilliant colors.

From these gay treasures a scarf and sash were selected for the bride,
and the rest were sent on Christmas Eve to the young girls of the
village. Many other pretty trifles were among the gifts--fans and sets
of Roman pearls, and laces for the neck and head, and pretty veils,
and fancy handkerchiefs, and in a long letter Angus directed
Christine to do her will with all he sent. He only wished to repay to
the village the happy hours he had spent in it the past summer.

This letter was not lover-like, but it was friendly, and sad. He said
so much might have been, and yet n