he smiled. Certainly, on the
outside, as Miss Cornelia said, Owen Ford was a very presentable fellow.

"You cannot realise how delighted I am to be here, Mrs. Blythe," he
said, looking around him with eager, interested eyes. "I have an odd
feeling of coming home. My mother was born and spent her childhood
here, you know. She used to talk a great deal to me of her old home.
I know the geography of it as well as of the one I lived in, and, of
course, she told me the story of the building of the house, and of my
grandfather's agonised watch for the Royal William. I had thought that
so old a house must have vanished years ago, or I should have come to
see it before this."

"Old houses don't vanish easily on this enchanted coast," smiled Anne.
"This is a 'land where all things always seem the same'--nearly always,
at least. John Selwyn's house hasn't even been much changed, and
outside the rose-bushes your grandfather planted for his bride are
blooming this very minute."

"How the thought links me with them! With your leave I must explore
the whole place soon."

"Our latch-string will always be out for you," promised Anne. "And do
you know that the old sea captain who keeps the Four Winds light knew
John Selwyn and his bride well in his boyhood? He told me their story
the night I came here--the third bride of the old house."

"Can it be possible? This IS a discovery. I must hunt him up."

"It won't be difficult; we are all cronies of Captain Jim. He will be
as eager to see you as you could be to see him. Your grandmother
shines like a star in his memory. But I think Mrs. Moore is expecting
you. I'll show you our 'cross-lots' road."

Anne walked with him to the house up the brook, over a field that was
as white as snow with daisies. A boat-load of people were singing far
across the harbor. The sound drifted over the water like faint,
unearthly music wind-blown across a starlit sea. The big light flashed
and beaconed. Owen Ford looked around him with satisfaction.

"And so this is Four Winds," he said. "I wasn't prepared to find it
quite so beautiful, in spite of all mother's praises. What
colors--what scenery--what charm! I shall get as strong as a horse in
no time. And if inspiration comes from beauty, I should certainly be
able to begin my great Canadian novel here."

"You haven't begun it yet?" asked Anne.

"Alack-a-day, no. I've never been able to get the right central idea
for it. It