s favorable situation. Returning from the
palm-tree, he had taken the shortest cut through a small jungle, and been
so impeded by the scrub, that, when he got clear, the fog was upon him.
Between that and the river he lost his way several times, and did not hit
the river till near midnight. He followed the river to the lake, and
coasted the lake, and then groped his way toward the creek.

But, after a while, every step he took was fraught with danger; and the
night was far advanced when he at last hit off the creek, as he thought.
He halloed; but there was no reply; halloed again, and, to his joy, her
voice replied; but at a distance.

He had come to the wrong creek. She was farther westward. He groped his
way westward, and came to another creek. He haloed to her, and she
answered him. But to attempt the descent would have been mere suicide.
She felt that herself, and almost ordered him to stay where he was.

"Why, we can talk all the same," said she; "and it is not for long."

It was a curious position, and one typical of the relation between them.
So near together, yet the barrier so strong.

"I am afraid you must be very cold," said he.

"Oh, no; I have my seal-skin jacket on; and it is so sheltered here. I
wish you were as well off."

"You are not afraid to be alone down there?"

"I am not alone when your voice is near me. Now don't you fidget
yourself, dear friend. I like these little excitements. I have told you
so before. Listen. How calm and silent it all is; the place; the night!
The mind seems to fill with great ideas, and to feel its immortality."

She spoke with solemnity, and he heard in silence.

Indeed it was a reverend time and place. The sea, whose loud and
penetrating tongue had, in some former age, created the gully where they
both sat apart, had of late years receded and kissed the sands gently
that calm night; so gently, that its long, low murmur seemed but the echo
of tranquillity.

The voices of that pair sounded supernatural, one speaking up, and the
other down, the speakers quite invisible.

"Mr. Hazel," said Helen, in a low, earnest voice; "they say that night
gives wisdom even to the wise; think now, and tell me your true thoughts.
Has the foot of man ever trod upon this island before?"

There was a silence due to a question so grave, and put with solemnity,
at a solemn time, in a solemn place.

At last Hazel's thoughtful voice came down. "The world is very, very,
very old. So