seated, with bowed head. It was of course the mysterious lady,
whom he had twice before seen thereabout at this unlikely if not
untimely hour; but with yesterday fresh in his mind, how could
he fail to see in her an angel of the resurrection waiting at the
sepulchre to tell the glad news that the Lord was risen?

Many were the glances he cast shoreward as he rebaited his line,
and, having thrown it again into the water, sat waiting until it
should be time to fire the swivel. Still the lady sat on, in her
whiteness a creature of the dawn, without even lifting her head.
At length, having added a few more fishes to the little heap in
the bottom of his boat, and finding his watch bear witness that
the hour was at hand, he seated himself on his thwart, and rowed
lustily to the shore, his bosom filled with the hope of yet another
sight of the lovely face, and another hearing of the sweet English
voice and speech. But the very first time he turned his head to
look, he saw but the sloping foot of the rock sink bare into the
shore. No white robed angel sat at the gate of the resurrection; no
moving thing was visible on the far vacant sands. When he reached
the top of the dune, there was no living creature beyond but a few
sheep feeding on the thin grass. He fired the gun, rowed back to
the Seaton, ate his breakfast, and set out to carry the best of
his fish to the House.

The moment he turned the corner of her street, he saw Mrs Catanach
standing on her threshold with her arms akimbo; although she was
always tidy, and her house spotlessly trim, she yet seemed forever
about the door, on the outlook at least, if not on the watch.

"What hae ye in yer bit basket the day, Ma'colm?" she said, with