id, in all sincerity, "are not lovable, not
trustworthy. The devil nets un by the hundred quintal, for _'tis_ such
easy fishin'; but sinners--such as sin agin their will--the Lard loves
an' gathers in. They who sin must suffer, Davy, an' only such as suffer
can _know_ the dear Lard's love. God be thanked for sin," he said,
looking up, inspired. "Let the righteous be damned--they deserve it.
Give _me_ the company o' sinners!"

"Is you sure?" I asked, confounded by this strange doctrine.

"I thank God," he answered, composedly, "that _I_ have sinned--and
suffered."

"Sure," said I, "_you_ ought t' know, for you've lived so awful long."

"They's nothin' like sin," said he, with a sure smack of the lips, "t'
make good men. I knows it."

"An' Bessie?"

"Oh, Davy, lad, _she'll_ be safe with him!"

Then I, too, knew it--knew that sin had been beneficently decreed by
God, whose wisdom seems so all-wise, once our perverse hearts are opened
to perceive--knew that my dear sister would, indeed, be safe with this
sinner, who sorrowed, also. And I was ashamed that I had ever doubted
it.

"Look!" Skipper Tommy whispered.

Far off--across the harbour--near lost in the mist--I saw my sister and
the doctor walking together.

* * * * *

My sister was waiting for me. "Davy," she asked, anxiously, "where have
you been?"

"On the hills," I answered.

For a moment she was silent, fingering her apron; and then, looking
fearlessly into my eyes--"I love him," she said.

"I'm glad."

"I cannot help it," she continued, clasping her hands, her breast
heaving. "I love him--so _hard_--I cannot tell it."

"I'm glad."

"An' he loves me. He loves me! I'm not doubtin' that. He _loves_ me,"
she whispered, that holy light once more breaking about her, in which
she seemed transfigured. "Oh," she sighed, beyond expression, "he loves
me!"

"I'm glad."

"An' I'm content t' know it--just t' know that he loves me--just t' know
that I love him. His hands and eyes and arms! I ask no more--but just t'
know it. Just once to have--to have had him--kiss me. Just once to have
lain in his arms, where, forever, I would lie. Oh, I'm glad," she cried,
joyously, "that the good Lord made me! I'm glad--just for that. Just
because he kissed me--just because I love him, who loves me. I'm glad I
was made for him to love. 'Tis quite enough for me. I want--only this I
want--that he may have me--that, body and soul, I may sa