ght
have this larger room, and you the other. I shall find means of paying
you--"

"Impossible, madam," the widow replied. "I am obliged to occupy this
room."

"For to-night, at least, you will let me have it. I cannot go back to
Macdonald's to-night. I will not go back at all; and you cannot turn me
out to-night. I have other reasons besides those I mentioned. I must
be in sight of the harbour. It is my only hope."

"You can stay here, if you will, madam: and you can have that bed. But
I can never leave this room between dark and light. I have yonder lamp
to attend to."

"Oh! I will attend to the lamp."

The widow smiled, and observed that she hoped the lady would have better
sleep than she could enjoy if she had the lamp to watch; and that was a
business which she could not commit to another hand. In the course of
the argument, the lady discovered that it would be a serious matter to
let out both the fire and lamp, as there was no tinder-box on the
island, and no wood, except in the season of storms, when some was
drifted up wet.

"I should like to live with you, and help you to keep up your lamp,"
said the lady. "If you could only manage a room for me--Not that I mean
to stay in this island! I will not submit to that. But while I am
waiting to get away, I should like to spend my time with you. You have
a heart. You would feel for me."

"I do feel for you, madam. This must be a terrible place for you, just
to-day,--and for many days to come. But oh! my lady, if you want peace
of mind, this is the place! It is a blessing that may be had anywhere,
I know. One would think it shone down from the sky or breathed out from
the air,--it is so sure to be wherever the sky bends over, or the air
wraps us round. But of all places, this is the one for peace of mind."

"This!--this--dreary island!"

"This quiet island. Look out now, and see if you can call it dreary.
Why, madam, there can hardly be a brighter glory, or a more cheerful
glow among the sons of God about the throne, than there is at this
moment over sea and shore, and near at home up to the very stone of my
threshold. Madam, I could never think this island dreary."

"It is not always sunset, nor always summer time," said Lady Carse, who
could not deny nor wholly resist the beauty of the scene.

"Other beauty comes by night and in the winter," observed the widow,
"and at times a grandeur which is better than the beauty. If the
soft