be wise, and take my own counsel," he thought, and he had
no fear of wanting his own sympathy; yet when he reviewed his
conversation with Christine, he was annoyed at its freedom.

"I ought not to have told her about Ballister," he thought, "she will
be watching for him at the kirk, and looking at the towers o'
Ballister House as if they were her own. And whatever made me say I
thought of her as my housekeeper? She would be the most imprudent
person. I would have the whole fishing-village at my house door, and
very likely at my fireside; and that would be a constant set-down for
me."

This train of thought was capable of much discreet consideration,
and he pursued it until he heard the stir of presence and conversation
in the large living room. Then he knew that his father and brother
were at home, to keep the preparation for the Sabbath. So he made
himself look as lawyer-like as possible, and joined the family.
Everyone, and everything, had a semi-Sabbath look. Ruleson was in a
blue flannel suit, so was Eneas, and Margot had put on a clean
cap, and thrown over her shoulders a small tartan shawl. The hearth
had been rid up, and the table was covered with a clean white
cloth. In the oven the meat and pudding were cooking, and there was a
not unpleasant sancta-serious air about the people, and the room.
You might have fancied that even the fishing nets hanging against the
wall knew it was Saturday night, and no fishing on hand.

Christine was not there. And as it was only on Saturday and Sunday
nights that James Ruleson could be the priest of his family, these
occasions were precious to him, and he was troubled if any of his
family were absent. Half an hour before Christine returned home, he
was worrying lest she forget the household rite, and when she came in
he asked her, for the future, to bide at home on Saturday and Sabbath
nights, saying he "didna feel all right," unless she was present.

"I was doing your will, Feyther, anent Faith Balcarry."

"Then you were doing right. How is the puir lassie?"

"There's little to be done for her. She hasna a hope left, and when I
spoke to her anent heaven, she said she knew nobody there, and the
thought o' the loneliness she would feel frightened her."

"You see, James," said Margot, "puir Faith never saw her father or
mother, and if all accounts be true, no great loss, and I dinna
believe the lassie ever knew anyone in this warld she would want to
see in heaven. Nae won