ad
been so happy and so miserable was sold, and the money put in the
bank for "David's education." All Liot's life now turned upon this
one object, and, happily, it was sufficient to restore to him that
hope--that something to look forward to--which is the salt of life.

Matilda gave him no further trouble. She sent him a bill for Karen's
board, and he paid it without a word; and this was the last stone she
could throw; besides which, she found herself compelled by public
opinion to make some atonement for her outrageous behavior, since in
those days it would have been as easy to live in St. Petersburg
and quarrel with the czar as to live in Shetland and not have the
minister's approval. So Mistress Sabiston had a special interview
with the Rev. Magnus Ridlon, and she also sent a sum of money to
the kirk as a "mortification," and eventually was restored to all
sacred privileges, except the great one of the holy table. This
depended inexorably on her public exoneration of Liot and her
cultivation of good-will toward him. She utterly refused Liot,
and preferred to want the sacred bread and wine rather than eat
and drink them with Liot Borson. And though Liot declared his
willingness to forgive Matilda fully, in his heart he was not
sorry to be spared the spiritual obligation.

So the seasons wore away, and summer and winter brought work and
rest, until David was nearly six years old. By this time the women
of Lerwick thought Liot should look for another wife. "There is
Halla Odd," said Jean Borson; "she is a widow of thine own age and
she is full-handed. It is proper for thee now to make a home for
thyself and David. When a wife has been dead four years there has
been mourning enough."

Impatient of such talk at first, Liot finally took it into some
consideration; but it always ended in one way: he cast his eyes
to that lonely croft where Karen slept, and remembered words she had
once spoken:

"In a little while I shall go away, Liot, and people will say, 'She
is in her grave'; _but I shall not be there._"

That was exactly Liot's feeling--Karen was not there. She had loved
God and believed in heaven, and he was sure that she had gone to
heaven. And from every spot on the open sea or the streeted town
or the solitary moors he had only to look up to the place where his
beloved dwelt. He did, however, as Jean Borson desired: he thought
about Halla Odd; he watched her ways, and speculated about her
money and her hous