A Knight of the Nets | Page 6

remember, Christina, that there was once a
woman who got rich by minding her own business;" and with a laugh,
the girl tied her bonnet under her chin, and went swiftly down the cliff
towards the village.
CHAPTER II
CHRISTINA AND ANDREW
This confidence greatly troubled Christina; and as Sophy crossed the
sands and vanished into the shadows beyond, a strange, sad
presentiment of calamity oppressed her heart. Being herself in the
enthusiasm of a first love, she could not conceive such treachery
possible as Sophy's word seemed to imply. The girl had always been
petted, and yet discontented with her situation; and had often made
complaints which had no real foundation, and which in brighter moods
she was likely to repudiate. And this night Andrew, instead of her Aunt
Kilgour, was the object of her dissatisfaction--that would be all.
To-morrow she would be complaining to Andrew of her aunt's hard
treatment of her, and Andrew would be whispering of future happiness
in her ears.
Upon the whole, therefore, Christina thought it would be cruel and
foolish to tell her brother a word of what Sophy had said. Why should

she disturb his serene faith in the girl so dear to him, until there was
some more evident reason to do so? He was, as his mother said, "very
touchy" about Sophy, being well aware that the village did not approve
of the changes in her dress, and of those little reluctances and reserves
in her behaviour, which had sprung up inevitably amid the refinements
and wider acquaintances of town life.
"And so many things happen as the clock goes round," she thought.
"Braelands may say or do something that will put him out of favour. Or
he may take himself off to a foreign country--he is gey fond of France
and Germany too--and Goodness knows he will never be missed in
Fifeshire. Or them behind may sort what flesh and blood cannot
manage; so I will keep a close mouth anent the matter. One may think
what one dare not say; for words, once spoken, cannot be wiped out
with a sponge--and more's the pity!"
Christina had also reached a crisis in her own life,--a crisis so important,
that it quite excused the apparent readiness with which she dismissed
Sophy's strange confidence. For the feeling between Jamie Logan and
herself had grown to expression, and she was well aware that what had
hitherto been in a large measure secret and private to themselves, had
this night become evident to others. And she was not sure how Jamie
would be received. Andrew had saved his life in a sudden storm, and
brought him to the Binnie cottage until he should be able to return to
his own place. But instead of going away, he had hired his time for the
herring season to a Pittendurie fisherman; and every spare hour had
found him at the Binnie cottage, wooing the handsome Christina.
The village was not unanimously in his favour. No one could say
anything against Jamie Logan; but he was a stranger, and that fact was
hard to get over. A man must serve a very strict and long probation to
be adopted into a Fife fishing community, and it was considered "very
upsetting" for an unkent man to be looking up to the like of Christina
Binnie,--a lass whose forbears had been in Pittendurie beyond the
memory or the tradition of its inhabitants.
Janet also was not quite satisfied; and Christina knew this. She
expected her daughter to marry a fisherman, but at least one who

owned his share in a good boat, and who had a house to take a wife to.
This strange lad was handsome and good-tempered; but, as she
reflected, and not unfrequently said, "good looks and a laugh and a
song, are not things to lippen to for housekeeping." So, on the whole,
Christina had just the same doubts and anxieties as might trouble a fine
lady of family and wealth, who had fallen in love with some handsome
fellow whom her relatives were uncertain about favouring.
A week after Sophy's visit, however, Jamie found the unconquerable
hour in which every true love comes to its blossoming. It was the
Sabbath night, and a great peace was over the village. The men sat at
their doors talking in monosyllables to their wives and mates; the
children were asleep; and the full ocean breaking and tinkling upon the
shingly coast. They had been at kirk together in the afternoon, and
Jamie had taken tea with the Binnies after the service. Then Andrew
had gone to see Sophy, and Janet to help a neighbour with a sick
husband; so Jamie, left with Christina, had seized gladly his
opportunity to teach her the secret of her own heart.
Sitting