an' sen' them rattling at the wicket of h'aven; but still I dinna
think, by yer ain accoont, specially noo 'at I houp he's forgi'en
an' latten in--God grant it!--I div not think he wad like my
leddy Florimel to be oon'er the influences o' sic a ane as that
Leddy Bellair. Ye maun gang till her. Ye ha'e nae ch'ice, my lord."

"But what am I to do, whan I div gang?"

"That's what ye hev to gang an' see."

"An' that's what I ha'e been tellin' mysel', an' what Miss Horn's
been tellin' me tu. But it's a gran' thing to get yer ain thouchts
corroborat. Ye see I'm feart for wrangin' her for pride, and bringin'
her doon to set mysel' up."

"My lord," said Blue Peter, solemnly, "ye ken the life o' puir
fisher fowk; ye ken hoo it micht be lichtened, sae lang as it laists,
an' mony a hole steikit 'at the cauld deith creeps in at the noo:
coont ye them naething, my lord? Coont ye the wull o' Providence,
'at sets ye ower them, naething? What for could the Lord ha'e gie
ye sic an upbringin' as no markis' son ever hed afore ye, or maybe
ever wull ha'e efter ye, gien it bena 'at ye sud tak them in han'
to du yer pairt by them? Gien ye forsak them noo, ye'll be forgettin'
him 'at made them an' you, an' the sea, an' the herrin' to be taen
intil 't. Gien ye forget them, there's nae houp for them, but the
same deith 'ill keep on swallowin' at them upo' sea an' shore."

"Ye speyk the trowth as I ha'e spoken't till mysel', Peter.
Noo, hearken: will ye sail wi' me the nicht for Lon'on toon?" The
fisherman was silent a moment--then answered, "I wull, my lord;