othing he longed for had happened.
He recalled tender little episodes, and declared they were the only
memories he valued. The whole tone of the letter was the tone of a
disappointed and hopeless man, to whom life had lost all its salt and
savor. Christine read it carefully. She was determined not to deceive
herself, and in a wakeful watch of the night, she went over it, and
understood.

"There isna ony truth in it," she said to herself, "and I needna gie a
thought to the lad's fine words. He is writing anent a made-up sorrow.
I'll warrant he is the gayest o' the gay, and that the memory o'
Christine is a little bit o' weariness to him. Weel, he has gi'en what
he could buy--that's his way, and he will mak' in his way a deal o'
pleasure among the young lasses." And the next day the bits of
brilliant silk were sorted and assigned, and then sent to the parties
chosen, with the Ballister compliments. The affair made quite a stir
in the cottages, and Angus would have been quite satisfied, if he
could have heard the many complimentary things that the prettiest
girls in Culraine said of him.

Two days before Christmas Day, Neil made his family a short visit. He
was looking very well, was handsomely dressed, and had all the
appearance and air of a man thoroughly satisfied with himself and his
prospects. He only stayed a short afternoon, for his friend Reginald
was waiting for him at the hotel, and he made a great deal of his
friend Reginald.

"You should hae brought him along wi' you," said Margot, and Neil
looked at Christine and answered--"I lost one friend, with bringing
him here, and I am not a man who requires two lessons on any
subject."

"Your friend had naething but kindness here, Neil," answered
Christine, "and he isna o' your opinion." And then she told him of the
Christmas presents sent from Rome.

"Exactly so! That is what I complain of. All these gifts to you and
the villagers, were really taken from me. I have not been remembered.
Last Christmas I was first of all. A woman between two men always
makes loss and trouble. I ought to have known that."

"Weel, Neil," said Margot, "there's other kindnesses you can think
o'er."

"I have not had a single New Year's gift this year--yet. I suppose
Reginald will not forget me. I have my little offering to him ready;"
and he took a small box from his pocket, and showed them a rather
pretty pair of sleeve buttons. "Yes, they are pretty," he commented,
"rather more t