er, they could and
would be managed. But how was she to refill her empty purse? There was
only one half-crown in it, and she had already found out the cruel
uncertainty of literary work. It depended on too many people. Her
novel was three-fourths done, but she reasoned that if men were so
long on finding out whether they liked half a dozen verses, it would
be all of a year, ere they got her novel well-examined. After
realizing this condition, she said firmly, and with no evidence of
unusual trial, "I can tak' to the fish, in the meantime. I havna
outgrown my fisher dress, nor forgot my fisher-calls, and Culraine
folk will help me sell, if I look to the boats for my bread. They
dinna understand the writing business--nae wonder! There's few do! The
Domine was saying it belongs to the mysteries o' this life. Weel, I'll
get my pleasure out o' it, and the fish are ay sure to come, and sure
to be caught, and if I set mysel' to the business, I can beat the
auldest and youngest o' the fisherwomen in the selling o' them."

When she came to this decision, the clock struck twelve, and she
looked up at its face for a moment, and shook her head. "I canna sleep
yet," she said, "and you needna be calling me. There's Cluny and Neil
to think o', and dear me, wha' can Neil be hiding himsel'? He canna
hae heard o' Mither's death, he would hae come here, and if he couldna
come, he would hae written. There has been nae word, either, from that
lass he married. She wrote seven lang pages o' faults and accusations
again her lawful husband, and then let the matter drop, as if it was
of no further consequence. I didn't answer her letter, and I am glad I
didn't. And I canna write now, for I know no more anent her
whereabouts, than I do anent Neil's. I wouldn't wonder if they are
together in some heathen country, where men fight duels, and kill each
other for an ugly word. In a case like that, it would be fair murder
for poor Neil. I wish I knew where the misguided lad is! Norman and
Neil had no marriage luck, and wha kens what my luck may be, in the
way o' a husband!"

This intensely personal reflection claimed her whole attention. It was
long since she had seen Cluny. Shortly before her mother's death, he
had gone as supercargo on a large merchant steamer, bound for New
Zealand. It was a most important post, and he had been promised, if
successful, the first captaincy in the fleet of passenger steamers
carrying between England and the United S