so beautiful a child. The sun seemed to shed all its rays on his
head; his eyes were blue as the sea; his limbs were sturdy and
beautiful, and from the time he began to take notice he sent out
little tendrils that gathered round the hearts of all those who looked
upon him. So kind is God sometimes to a little nameless child.

But to see Maggie while her brothers played with the boy, tossing him
in their arms, and letting him spring from one to the other, was
indeed a pretty sight. You know the proud confidence with which an
animal that loves you looks on at your handling of her little
ones--her anxiety quite swallowed up in her pride and confidence and
her benevolent satisfaction in the pleasure she is giving you. That is
how Maggie watched those delightful romps. But the old woman in the
chimney-corner turned away her head; and never forgot that Maggie had
stolen God's gift, and that the scarlet letter was on the boy's white
forehead.

As the years passed and the boy throve and grew tall, I heard of
Maggie becoming very devout. 'A true penitent,' said Father Tiernay to
me, 'and I believe that in return for the patience and gentleness with
which she has striven to expiate her sin God has given her a very
unusual degree of sanctity.' In the intervals of her work she was
permitted as a great privilege to help about the altar linen, and keep
the church clean. She used to carry the boy with her when she went to
the church, and I have come upon him fast asleep in a sheltered
corner, while his mother was sweeping and dusting, with a radiant and
sanctified look on a face that had grown very spiritual.

But still the old mother remained inexorable. I am sure in her own
mind she resented as a profanation her daughter's work about the
church. She herself had never entered that familiar holy place since
her daughter's disgrace. Sunday and holiday all these years she had
trudged to Breagh, a long way round by the coast, for mass. All
expostulations have been vain, even Father Tiernay's own. Whatever
other people may forget, the sin has lost nothing of its scarlet for
her.

It was the last time I was on the Island that I was told of Maggie's
marriage. Not to an Island man: oh no, no Island man would marry a
girl with a stain on her character, not though she came to be as high
in God's favour as the blessed Magdalen herself. He was the mate of a
Scotch vessel, a grave, steady, strong-faced Highlander. He had come
to the Island t