David mistrusted its intentions; he was
always watching it. The men of Uig had been wont to say that David
Borson would not turn his back on the sea, lest it should get some
advantage over him. This intimacy of mistrust was the result of his
life's training; it was the practical education of nearly twenty
years.

His next move was to see the minister and present to him the letter
from the minister of Uig, which authenticated his kirk standing and
his moral character. He put on his kirk clothes for this call, and
was sorry afterward that he had so hampered himself; for the good
man met him with both hands outstretched, and blessed him in the name
of the Lord.

"I married your father and mother, David," he said. "I baptized you
into the fold of Lerwick kirk, and I buried your sweet mother in its
quiet croft. Your father was near to me and dear to me. A good man
was Liot Borson--a good man! When that is said, what more is left to
say? While my life-days last I shall not forget Liot Borson." And
then they talked of David's life in Uig, and when he left the manse
he knew that he had found a friend.

It was then Thursday night, and he did not care to go to the fishing
until the following Monday. Before he began to serve himself he
wished to serve God, and so handsel his six days' work by the
blessing of the seventh. This was the minister's advice to him, and
he found that every one thought it right and good; so, though he
made his boat ready for sea, she was not to try her speed and luck
on her new fishing-ground until David had offered up thanksgiving
for his safe journey, and supplications for grace and wisdom to
guide his new life aright.

"There is no more that I can do now until the early tide on Monday
morning," he said to Barbara Traill, "and I will see if I can find
any more of my kin-folk. Are any of my mother's family yet living?"

"The Sabistons have all gone south to the Orkneys. They are handy
at money-getting, and the rumor goes abroad that they are rich and
masterful, and ill to deal with; but they were ever all that, or the
old tellings-up do them much wrong."

"Few people are better spoken of than they deserve."

"That is so. Yet no one in Lerwick is so well hated as your
great-aunt Matilda Sabiston. She is the last of the family left in
Shetland. Go and see her if you wish to; I have nothing to say
against it; but I can give you a piece of advice: lean not for
anything on Matilda Sabiston."

"Al