Sometimes in their wanderings they would come upon a "fairy-ring," and as they listened to the strange stories told by the islanders, they seemed to be really in some bewitched and spell-bound place. Or, perhaps a "kern," standing solitary upon some hill-top, would call forth a whole series of Danish and Norwegian legends, which would give them food for reflection for days.

Many a pleasant adventure they had as they rode together on their sure-footed little "shelties," or climbed the crags and rocks to look down upon the isles, "like so many stars reflected from the sky." And many a pleasant talk they had with the hospitable inhabitants, who rehearsed to them some of the dangers which assail the dwellers in those solitary little islands. The narrow belts of sea, which divide their ocean-girded homes, have constantly to be ferried across, and many a boat which has gone out manned with a gallant crew has never returned or sent a waif to tell its story.

It was partly to acquire a knowledge of the Shetland character, and to see some phases of its home-life, that our friends, when they came at last to one little village by the sea, where they had only intended to make a flying visit, determined to halt there for a few days. It was a charming spot; on the one side of the village there were to be seen some of the finest specimens of the savage grandeur of cliff and crag, and on the other the smiling, genial face of cultivation and quiet beauty.

On the morning our friends arrived at the village they found three fishermen at work beside their cottage door, on the margin of the sea. They were brothers—Ole, Maurice, and Eric Hughson; all young men, handsome, strong and intelligent. Howard and Martin made friends with them at once, and as the morning was calm and bright, entered into arrangements with them for their best boat to be launched, so that our friends might have a long sail, to visit some of the caverns abounding on the coast, and to see the homes of the wild sea-birds, and the haunts of the fowlers.

When the hamper of provisions was safely on board, and the party for the picnic had followed it, of course the sea air and the fine scenery set every tongue loose, so that the solitary places rang again with the merry laughter and the voice of song. And then, when the first irrepressible pleasure had spent itself a little, the young folks gathered round the three brothers, and listened with attentive interest to the yarns they were spinning to Mr. Morton about some of the places they were passing; for every spot in the Shetlands has its own story.

Madeleine noticed that beneath the mirth and apparent gayety of the men, there seemed to be an under-current of deep feeling, probably born of sorrow, and she determined, if possible, to find her way to the hearts of the fine manly fellows, in whom she began to be interested.

It was not long before an opportunity occurred. The boat was steered round a huge bluff, and before our friends were aware where they were going, they found themselves in a vast cavern. There was something awful in the half-darkness into which they passed, and the dreary stillness, only broken by the splashing of the water against the sides of the cave, enhanced the feeling. As the boat rested in the midst of the cavern, they looked up, and saw as it were, stars shining through the massive roof; they looked around, and the huge rocks seemed like burnished metal. It was a curious sight, and the sounds were equally curious for every word they spoke came back again to the speaker, with a ghostly hollowness.

Madeleine, with Howard and Martin, sang a song together, which sounded splendidly within this vaulted cave, with all its wild re-echoings. When it ended, the boat glided slowly out of the cavern, and although they had enjoyed the somber magnificence they had left, they were all glad to be in the fresh air and cheerful sunshine again.

Madeleine watched her opportunity, and when she saw Eric alone in the fore part of the boat, she quietly disengaged herself from the rest of the party, and, sitting down beside him, said: "Eric, I believe you have seen some great sorrow, though you are so young."

"I was only twenty-two last birthday, Miss, but I have had sorrow enough."