wrecked was in Saint
Magnus Bay, in the parish of North Morven. My friends were the holders
of one of the largest farms in the district, and lived in a very
comfortable, though what people in the south would call a rough way. I
am not going to talk of all that passed between Margaret and me. I
should not have believed that she had thought so much of me as she had
done, it seemed; but our first meeting had been under peculiar
circumstances. She had seen me mourning deeply for a lost relative, and
she had discovered thus that I had a tender heart, so I may venture to
say, and now my coming all the way north to look for her showed her that
she had made no little impression on it.

Well, all that has passed and gone. I got every day better and better,
and was soon able to walk out with her along the tops of the high
cliffs, and to visit the wild scenes to be found especially in that part
of the island. I especially remember one place we visited, called the
Navis Grind. It is a gap in the cliffs formed by the whole force of the
western ocean rolling against them during a succession of heavy gales,
age after age, till vast fragments of the rock have been forced in for
hundreds of yards over the downs, and now lie like the fragments of some
ruined city scattered over the plain. We delighted in returning to
those scenes of wild grandeur, because they contrasted so strongly with
our own quiet happiness.

This was only the second time in my life that I had enjoyed what might
be properly called idleness. The first was during my short stay with
Aunt Bretta, and then I confess that I often did at times feel weary
from not knowing what to do with myself. Now I never felt anything like
weariness, I was too happy to spend the greater part of the day in the
society of Margaret. Sometimes I used to walk by myself over the downs
by the edge of the cliffs, and at others visit the different parts of
his farm with my host, and assist him to look after his cattle and
horses and sheep, which were scattered far and wide over the peninsula.

I have scarcely mentioned his daughter Minna. She was a fair-haired,
smiling, good-natured lassie, who was contented with her lot, because
she had sense enough to discover that it was a very happy one.

There was one person, however, who would, I soon with some pain
discovered, have been better pleased had I not come to the islands.
That was John Angus, my host's son. He did not treat me unc