r calling?" persisted the mischief loving youngster.

"I do not think so. I take it the saints directed me here, for none but
they could bring me this present happiness," said the visitor, gallantly
inclining his head to the one with the roses in her cheeks.

At this point Eyllen's father began to speak of other things, and the
irrepressible youngster subsided; while Eyllen and her aunt looked
modestly down upon the plates before them.

Two weeks passed. The ship which brought the sick man and his friend had
departed, leaving them behind. None were sad at its going. Eyllen's
father was rapidly improving, and gradually grew to feel that life was,
after all, worth having. To the younger man, each hour in the presence
of Eyllen seemed brighter even than the one before it, and a longing for
many of the same in the future took possession of him. There was no real
enjoyment out of her sight. His former existence looked to him a blank.
He could not go back to it. He could not leave this green island, the
clear mountain air made salt by great encircling waters and scented by
spring blossoms. There were no fish like those in these waters, and no
winds so free as the ones playing over the crests of Progromni and
Shishaldin. Finally, nowhere in the whole world was an equal to Eyllen
among women.

This last consideration settled everything. He was determined to win her
in marriage if possible, but her father no longer needed attention, and
he bethought himself to set to work at something by which to earn money.
More fishermen were in demand at this time in the settlement to supply
the constantly arriving ships with fresh fish, and he devoted himself
temporarily to this labor.

In her turn Eyllen was interested in Shismakoff, but she longed to
disclose her secret to her father, who, she felt confident, could not
refrain from sharing it with his friend. To this she could not yet
consent. She had suddenly grown wise with a wisdom not before exhibited.
If the young man loved her as she felt that he did, might not the
knowledge of her secret urge him to increase his attention? In all
probability it would, and she heartily repudiated this idea.

Of all things in the world, to be loved for her gold-bearing ledges
would be the worst of misfortunes, she reflected, and this feeling,
growing upon her, prevented her day after day from confiding in her
father. When he had recovered his strength sufficiently to walk among
the hills (she to