sion; but, having satisfied herself of its
justice, she was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand
frankly and lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or
woe, to stand truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful
troth-plighting, but they were both sure of the foundations of their
love, and both regarded the promise as solemnly binding.

Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the
captain of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland
Frith being well known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate
application, he would be accepted. If he was, John declared his
intention of at once seeing Peter and asking his consent to their
engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of Brogar was to be their
tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer dwelling lay not far
from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his boat and walk up
from the beach to the house with him. She would always walk over first
to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be well; if
not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and be
content.

John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell
Margaret this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain.
"There is nae better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said
Peter. "I like none that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but
then, a cat may look at a king without it being high treason, I wot."

A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him
honestly how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry
than when Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen
to neither love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any
further intercourse with his daughter. John had expected this, and was
not greatly discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful,
and they could wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to
disobey the old man.

In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and
John. The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the
beach, and insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of
them were sorry to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the
deep-sea fishing and the stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look
upon each other as mere parts of a bargain. There was, too, a wild
valor and a wonderful power in emergencies belonging to Ragon that had
always dazzled John's more cautiou