A Daughter of Fife

old gr

oad bri

ipple and

waves as

ay rocks o

empests as

rested bi

tide e

and

Bla

s in the "East Neuk o' Fife," that bit of old Scotland "fronted with a girdle of little towns," of which Pittenloch is one of the smallest and the

takers of its immensity and its mystery. The commonest of their men have wrestled with the powers of the air, and the might of wind, and wave, and icy cold. The weakest of their women have felt the hallowing touch of sudden calamity, and of

; and from their very midst, in later days, sprang the champion of the Free Kirk. Otherwise rebellions and revolutions troubled them little. Whether Scotland's king sat in Edinburgh or London-whether Prin

robably there was not a man in it who had ever seen a haymaking. If you went to Pittenloch, you went by the sea; if you left it, there was the same grand highw

hirling wraiths of vapor sweeping across the level sands. From a little distance, she appeared like a woman standing amid gray clouds-a sombre, solid, figure; whose attitude was one of grave thoughtfu

tticoat, and a white cap drawn over her hair, and tied down with a lilac kerchief knotted under the chin. This kerchief outlined the superb oval of her face; and made more remarkable the large

t, strong in every timber, an old world Buckie skiff, notorious for fending in foundering seas; but it had failed Promo

ike; and in accordance with the ancient law of the Buchan and Fife fishers, it was "put from the sea." Never again might it toss on the salt fr

y approached the boat. There it lay, upside down, black and lonely, far beyond the highest mark of any pitying tide. She fanc

lost them a'. Think shame o' yersel', think shame o' yersel', for the sorrow you hae brought! You'll be a h

rolling in thick, with the tide, and the air was cold and keen. A voice called her through it, and she answered the long-drawn "Maggie" with three cheerful words, "I'm coming, Davie.

or a bonnier boat

or destruction, some for salvation. The Powers abov

's our ain fault some way. Noo there would be a f

eserts. We must tak' care o' our ain job. But I hae news for you, and if

g, white-washed, and heather-roofed, and containing only three rooms. David and Maggie entered the principal one together. Its deal furniture was spotless, its floor cleanly sanded, and a bright turf

the haddie, and making the tea, and setting the little round table. But her heart was heavy enough. Scarcely a week before her father and three eldest brothers had gone out

of Aberdeen. Latterly old Promoter had smoked his pipe very often to the ambitious hope of a minister in his family. David's brothers and sister had also learned to look upon the lad as destined by Providence to bring holy honors upon the household. No thought of jealousy had marred their intended self-denial in their younger brother's behalf. Their stern Calvinism taugh

s comparing him with his dead brothers. They had been simply strong fair fishers, with that open air look men get who continually set their faces to the winds and waves. David was different altogether. He was exceedingly tall, and until years filled in his huge framework of bone and muscle, would very likely be called "gawky." But he had the face of a mediaeval ecclesiastic; sp

erous and holy hopes been destroyed?" Maggie knew the drift of his thoughts, and she hastened her preparations for tea; for though it is a humiliating thing to admit, the most sacred of our griefs are not independent of mere physical comfor

rn. But hope was over. When Promoter's mates beached his boat, both David and Maggie understood the rite to be a funeral one. It was not customary for women to go to funerals, but Maggie, standing afar off, amid the gray thick fo

new methods and motives: "and the sooner the better," t

av

ee

e? And the fish

k I was sae hungry. I'm maist '

a sit wi' idle hands anither seven days. Yo

n. He wants a quiet room to himsel', and there's naebody in Pittenloch can gie hi

be thankfu'. My certie! A crown a

the godsend; if she canna tak' i

e is ￡50 in

en t

ll gie you a' the star

wad do, wi' a carefu' ha

' a bit teaching af

lking aboot? Oor fayther saved it

, and weave, and sew, and the lasses roun' aboot have keepit my needle aye busy. Why not? I served

uch o' you; and ￡50 wad buy his share in Cupar's boat. I sall hae

ise made to Angus Raith! Go into Kinkell the morn and speak wi' the mi

e tidied up the room, David opened the door And stood thoughtfully within its shadow. "There's a voice

ou see

r-but I hear steps on the shingle. I'm thinking

down with approval at her ribbed gray stockings, and lo

pell. She was conscious, as she stood blushing, that the stranger had been astonished at her appearance, but she certainly did not dream that it was her great beauty which had for one moment made him i

she could have the room ready for him by noon of the foll

a slight movement of adieu to her, he disappeared. She trembled, and turned hot and cold, and felt as if she must cry. It was wit

nnie braidcl

down to them. I aye thocht that Dr. Balmuto had the maist compelling look wi' him; but I think

his name

I never thoc

t a sorrow of apprehension? one of those divinations which we call presentiments. Neither David nor Maggie questioned it; they

reak its spell. In a low voice, as she bent lower to the dying fire, she began to talk of the dead for whom "God had found gra

ssed up and down-pulling in the nets or lines wi' freezin

art doesna fail, and the full cup never breaks. Come, let us ask o' the Bo

and laid it down upon the table. David lifted the light and stood beside

the word o' the Lord;" and with a voic

hey be quiet: so He bringeth