ver heard anything more than that; he went to the war in one o' the
early regiments. No, I never heard any more of him," answered Mrs. Todd.
"Joanna was another sort of person, and perhaps he showed good judgment
in marryin' somebody else, if only he'd behaved straight-forward and
manly. He was a shifty-eyed, coaxin' sort of man, that got what he
wanted out o' folks, an' only gave when he wanted to buy, made friends
easy and lost 'em without knowin' the difference. She'd had a piece o'
work tryin' to make him walk accordin' to her right ideas, but she'd
have had too much variety ever to fall into a melancholy. Some is meant
to be the Joannas in this world, an' 'twas her poor lot."

XV. On Shell-heap Island

SOME TIME AFTER Mrs. Fosdick's visit was over and we had returned to
our former quietness, I was out sailing alone with Captain Bowden in his
large boat. We were taking the crooked northeasterly channel seaward,
and were well out from shore while it was still early in the afternoon.
I found myself presently among some unfamiliar islands, and suddenly
remembered the story of poor Joanna. There is something in the fact of a
hermitage that cannot fail to touch the imagination; the recluses are
a sad kindred, but they are never commonplace. Mrs. Todd had truly said
that Joanna was like one of the saints in the desert; the loneliness of
sorrow will forever keep alive their sad succession.

"Where is Shell-heap Island?" I asked eagerly.

"You see Shell-heap now, layin' 'way out beyond Black Island there,"
answered the captain, pointing with outstretched arm as he stood, and
holding the rudder with his knee.

"I should like very much to go there," said I, and the captain, without
comment, changed his course a little more to the eastward and let the
reef out of his mainsail.

"I don't know's we can make an easy landin' for ye," he remarked
doubtfully. "May get your feet wet; bad place to land. Trouble is I
ought to have brought a tag-boat; but they clutch on to the water so,
an' I do love to sail free. This gre't boat gets easy bothered with
anything trailin'. 'Tain't breakin' much on the meetin'-house ledges;
guess I can fetch in to Shell-heap."

"How long is it since Miss Joanna Todd died?" I asked, partly by way of
explanation.

"Twenty-two years come September," answered the captain, after
reflection. "She died the same year as my oldest boy was born, an' the
town house was burnt over to the Port. I didn't