Troil, the old gentleman's daughter, or little Maggie looked in to see
if I wanted anything. Two days after this I was able to dress and sit
out in front of the house, enjoying the sun and air, looking down on the
voe in which lay our brig, with a small sloop and several fishing
vessels and boats. On that side, looking to the south, there was a view
of the voe and the opposite bank, but on all the others the house, a
square stone building, was protected by a high wall close to it, built
to keep off the biting cold winds and snow of winter. Jim was out with
Mr Troil, and as Miss Troil was engaged, Maggie came and sat by me with
a book, and read and talked to me for a long time, getting me to tell
her all about myself and our perilous voyage, till her aunt summoned her
to attend to some household affairs. When I returned to my room I found
that my chest had been brought on shore and placed there. Miss Troil
came in and took out the things, which, having become damp and mildewy,
she wished to dry. While doing so she came upon my old Testament,
which, chancing to open, she examined the inside of the cover with
intense curiosity.

"Why, Peter, how did you come by this?" she asked.

The family had got by this time to call me Peter.

I told her that it had belonged to my father's mother, and then for the
first time since I came to Shetland I recollected that the name in it
was spelt in the same way as that of my host.

"I must ask my father about this!" she exclaimed. "He had an uncle
called Angus, after whom he was named, and who married a Margaret
Halcro. There are none of the family remaining in Shetland, though at
one time they were numerous. Peter, I should not be surprised if it
turns out that you are a kinsman of ours. Should you like to be so?"

"Indeed I should!" I answered; "I feel as if I were one already, from
the kind way you have treated me, even before you thought I might be a
relative."

When Mr Trail came in he listened attentively to what his daughter told
him, and, having examined the handwriting in the Testament, asked me the
ages of my father and grandmother, and all other particulars I could
tell him.

"I have no doubt about your being a near relative of ours, Peter, and I
rejoice to find you one, my dear boy," he said; "though why my aunt
Margaret Troil did not come back to her husband's relatives after her
husband's death I cannot tell."

"Perhaps she had not the means to make the