374 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



hensible to them — namely, the cry which Breeta gave 

 when she found that speech or touch could not reach 

 her ghostly companion. 



" His Finis ! " she shrieked, and fell fainting on 

 the snow. 



CHAPtEE n. 



"An evil hour in which to return home, and a sorry 

 plight to be in ! " muttered a young sailor, as he clung 

 to the rail of his dismantled ship, and knew that 

 she was driving on the rocks of his native island, " I 

 turned my back on the auld place because the lass I 

 loved chose money rather than me ! She told me one 

 Yule e'en that she loved me. O God ! I can at this 

 moment, even, this awful moment, dwell upon that time. 

 How sweet and tender she looked, and how brightly her 

 wet eyes shone as she lifted them to mine, and I read her 

 love by the light of the stars gleaming on her bonnie up- 

 raised face ! Such a girlish, innocent face ! That was 

 one Yule e'en ; next Yule she telled me aff; and ihis 

 Yule I am like to be flung like a bit of seaweed upon 

 the shore below her home. There is a light — a lonely 

 light. That ought to be the light from old Gertson's 

 house. Ay, and doubtless Breeta sits warm by his 

 hearthstone, laughing in his face and playing with his 

 child. She little dreams that the lad whose lips 

 pressed hers for the first time, and for the last, on 

 happy Yules not long ago, is tossing on the dark sea 

 outside her door — his hours numbered most like. She 



