mstance, which even yet made her
draw her shoulders together, with a gasp of bitter chagrin.

"Christine, you will remember that I told you it was they who waited
patiently on the Lord, who received His blessing. Are you satisfied
now?"

"Oh, Sir! Do not ask me that question. You know I am satisfied."

"Then put this money in the bank, and go to wark with all your mind,
and all your soul. Being a woman you cannot preach, so God has chosen
you for the pen of a ready writer. Say all that is given you to say,
whether you get paid by the handicrafters, or not. God will see that
you get your wages. Goodnight! You may let the bit Ballister affair
slip out of your mind. The young man isn't naturally bad. He is
ashamed of himself by this time. No doubt of it."

These things happened at the beginning of the herring season, and for
two months Christine had a blessed interval of forgetfulness. Every
man, woman and child, was busy about the fish. They had no time to
think of the lonely girl, who had begun, and then suddenly abandoned
the fishing--nobody knew what for. But they saw her in the kirk every
Sabbath, apparently well and happy, and old Judith said she had nae
doubt whatever that Cluny had forbidden her to hae any pairt in the
clash and quarreling o' the women folk in the herrin' sheds, and why
not? Cluny would be a full captain, wi' all his trimmings on, when he
came to Culraine next April for his wife, and was it likely he would
be wanting his wife cryin' feesh, and haggling wi' dirty, clackin'
women, for a few bawbees? Christine was a lady born, she said, and her
Cluny would set her among the quality where she belonged. Judith had
no doubt whatever that Christine was obeying an order from Cluny, and
Jessy Ruleson said she was glad the lass had found a master, she had
always had too much o' her ain ill way.

For nearly three months Christine lived a quiet, methodical life,
undisturbed by any outside influence, and free from all care. She rose
very early, finding creative writing always easiest before noon. She
went to bed very early, knowing that the sleep before midnight is the
renewing sleep, and she hemmed the day, night and morn, with prayer,
to keep it from unraveling. All that could happen between these two
prayers was provided for, and she gave herself heart and soul to the
delightful toil of story-writing. She wrote as she felt. She used the
dialect and idioms of her people when it was necessary, and no one