ything at a glance, as if the great power
of his love had taught him.

"Now, by God----" he said, and shook his fist at the house in front
of him.

"Hush!" Greeba whispered, "it is my own doing. I am loth to be
beholden to any one, least of all to such as forget me."

The sweet tenderness of her look softened him, and he cast down his
eyes again, and said:

"Greeba, there is one who can never forget you; morning and night you
are with him, for he loves you dearly; ay, Greeba, as never maiden
was loved by any one since the world began. No, there isn't the man
born, Greeba, who loves a woman as he loves you, for he has nothing
else to love in all the wide world."

She looked up at him as he spoke and saw the courage in his eyes, and
that he who loved her stood as a man beside her. At that her heart
swelled and her eyes began to fill, and he saw her tears and knew
that he had won her, and he plucked her to his breast with a wild cry
of joy, and she lay there and wept, while he whispered to her through
her hair.

"My love! my love! love of my life!" he whispered.

"I was so lonely," she murmured.

"You shall be lonely no more," he whispered; "no more, my love, no
more," and his soft words stole over her drooping head.

He stayed an hour longer by her side, laughing much and talking
greatly, and when he went off she heard him break into a song as he
passed out at the gate.

Then, being once more alone, she sat and tried to compose herself,
wondering if she should ever repent what she had done so hastily, and
if she could love this man as he well deserved and would surely wish.
Her meditations were broken by the sound of Jason's voice. He was
coming back with his happy step, and singing as merrily as he went.

"What a blockhead I am," he said, cheerily, popping his head in at
the door. "I forgot to deliver you a letter that the postmaster gave
me when I was at Ramsey this morning. You see it's from Iceland. Good
news from your father, I trust. God bless him!"

So saying he pushed the letter into Greeba's hand and went his way
jauntily, singing as before a gay song of his native country.

The letter was from Michael Sunlocks.

CHAPTER IV.

THE RISE OF MICHAEL SUNLOCKS.

"Dear Greeba," the letter ran, "I am sorely ashamed of my long
silence, which is deeply ungrateful towards your father, and very
ungracious towards you. Though something better than four years have
passed away since I left the litt