r son's soul
and impress upon it her own trust in the love and mercy of the "God of
battles." She had hoped that some word or thought of Boris would come
back to her in such a personal manner that she would feel that he was
thinking of her and of the many sweet spiritual confidences they had
had together.

But nothing came, no sign, no word, no sudden, flashing memory of some
special promise. All was void and still until she heard the voices of
Thora and Ian. Then she went down to them and found that the evil news
had met them on their way home. She asked Ian if he had any knowledge
of the whereabouts of Boris. Ian thought he might be at sea, as his
ship was at Spithead among the carrying ships of the navy. "If he had
been in Alma's fight, you might have heard from him," he added. "It
would be his first battle and he would want to write to you about it.
That would be only natural."

"Well, then, I will look for good news. If bad news is coming, I will
not pay it the compliment of going to meet it. Have you had a pleasant
day? Where first did you go?"

"To the land-locked Bay of Stromness which was full of ships of all
sizes, of schooners, and of little skiffs painted a light green colour
like the pleasure skiffs of Kirkwall."

"And the town?"

"Was very busy while we were there. It has but one long street, with
steep branches running directly up the big granite hill which shelters
it from the Atlantic. What I noticed particularly was, that the houses
on the main street all had their gables seaward; and are so built that
the people can step from their doors into their boats. I liked that
arrangement. Stromness is really an Orcadean Venice. The town is a
queer old place, with a non-English and non-Scotch look. The houses
have an old-world appearance and the names over the doorways carry you
back to Norseland. Only one street is flagged and little bays run up
into the street through its whole length. But the place appeared to be
very busy and happy. I noticed few Scotch there, the people seemed to
be purely Norse. All were busy--men, women and children."

"It used to be the last port for the Hudson Bay Company," said Rahal,
"and the big whaling fleets, and in days of war and convoys there were
hundreds of big ships in its wonderful harbour. I suppose that you had
no time to visit any of the ancient monuments there?" Rahal asked.

"No; Thora told me her grandmother Ragnor was buried in its cemetery
and that her gra