r upon every hope."
"There are hopes I wish at the bottom of the sea. To be sure, when ill is fated some one must speak the words that bring it about; but I wish it had been any other but myself who wrote, 'Come to Lerwick'; for I little thought I was writing, 'Come to Liot Borson.' As every one knows, he is the son of unlucky folk; from father to son nothing goes well with them."
"I will put my luck to his, and you will learn to think better of Liot for my sake, aunt."
"Not while my life-days last! That is a naked say, and there's no more to it."
Matilda's dislike, however, did not seriously interfere with Liot's and Karen's happiness. It was more passive than active; it was more virulent when he was absent than when he was present; and all winter she suffered him to visit at her house. These visits had various fortunes, but, good or bad, the season wore away with them; and as soon as April came Liot began to build his house. Matilda scoffed at his hurry. "Does he think," she crie