s the result of their ancestry, and given to a
large despite of foreigners, in which category were included all
unfortunates born outside the rugged walls of Sark.

He had done his best among them, both for their own interests and those
of the mines, but no striving would ever make him other than a
foreigner; and in the depression of spirit consequent on the trying
experiences of the day, he gloomily pondered the idea of giving up his
post and finding a more congenial atmosphere elsewhere.

Still, he was a Cornishman, and dour to beat. And, if he had incurred
unreasonable dislike, he had also lighted on the virgin lode of Nance's
love and trust, and that, he said to himself with a glow of gratitude,
outweighed all else.

He had left the school-house at once when he had given his evidence, and
had heard no more of what had taken place there. The bystanders had let
him pass without any open opposition, but their faces had been hard and
unsympathetic, and he recognized that life among them would be anything
but a sunny road for some time to come.

If the people at Plaisance had told him to clear out and find another
lodging he would not have been in the least surprised. But they had no
such thought. In common with all who really got to know him, they had
come to esteem and like him, and they had no reason to believe that he
had had anything to do with Tom Hamon's death.

He had pondered these matters wearily till bed-time, and he turned in at
last sick of himself, and Sark, and things generally. But his brain
would not sleep, and the longer he lay and the more he tossed and
turned, the wearier he grew.

Sleep seemed so impossible that he was half inclined to get up and dress
and go out. The cool night air and the freshness of the dawn would be
better than this sleepless unresting. Suddenly there came a sharp little
tap on his window.

A bird, he thought, or a bat.

The tap came again--sharp and imperative.

He got up quietly and went to the window. The night was still dark. As
he peered into it a hand came up again and tapped once more and he
opened the window.

"Mr. Gard!"--in a sharp whisper.

"Nance! What is it, dear? Anything wrong?"

"I want you--quick."

"One minute!" and he hastily threw on his things and joined her outside.

"What is it, Nance?" he asked anxiously, wondering what new complication
had arisen.

"I'll tell you as we go. Come!" and they were speeding noiselessly down
the road to the