she was alone she
remembered the message Tulloch had given her. It had remained all day
undelivered, and quite forgotten. "How selfish I am," she said
wearily, but ere she could feel sensibly any regret for her fault she
had fallen asleep.

In the morning it was her first thought, and as soon after breakfast
as possible she went to Dr. Balloch's. He seemed shocked at the news,
and very much affected. "We have been true friends for fifty years,
Margaret," he said; "I never thought of his being ill, of his
dying--dying."

"He does not appear to fear death, sir."

"No, he will meet it as a good man should. He knows well that death is
only the veil which we who live call life. We sleep, and it is
lifted."

"Wilt thou see him to-day?"

"Yes, this morning. Thirty-eight years ago this month his wife died.
It was a great grief to him. She was but a girl, and her bride-year
was not quite worn out."

"I have never heard of her."

"Well, then, that is like to be. This is the first time I have spoken
of Nanna Tulloch since she went away from us. It is long to remember,
yet she was very lovely, and very much beloved. But thou knowest
Shetlanders speak not of the dead, nor do they count any thing from a
day of sorrow. However, thy words have brought many things to my
heart. This day I will spend with my friend."

The reconciliation which had taken place was a good thing for
Margaret. She was inclined to be despondent; Suneva always faced the
future with a smile. It was better also that Margaret should talk of
Jan, than brood over the subject in her own heart; and nothing
interested Suneva like a love-quarrel. If it were between husband and
wife, then it was of double importance to her. She was always trying
to put sixes and sevens at one. She persuaded Margaret to write
without delay to Jan, and to request the Admiralty Office to forward
the letter. If it had been her letter she would have written "Haste"
and "Important" all over it. She never tired of calculating the
possibilities of Jan receiving it by a certain date, and she soon
fixed upon another date, when, allowing for all possible detentions,
Jan's next letter might be expected.

But perhaps, most of all, the reconciliation was good for Peter.
Nothing keeps a man so young as the companionship of his children
and grandchildren. Peter was fond and proud of his daughter, but
he delighted in little Jan. The boy, so physically like his
father, had many of Peter's ta