light--the Canadian, being partly a stranger, more vividly than the rest
of us. But, at the same time, I felt it was quite possible that she had
sensed some subtle link between his personality and her own, some
quality that she had hitherto ignored and that the routine of town life
had kept buried out of sight. The only thing that seemed difficult to
explain was the fear she had spoken of, and this I hoped the wholesome
effects of camp-life and exercise would sweep away naturally in the
course of time.

We made the tour of the island without speaking. It was all too
beautiful for speech. The trees crowded down to the shore to hear us
pass. We saw their fine dark heads, bowed low with splendid dignity to
watch us, forgetting for a moment that the stars were caught in the
needled network of their hair. Against the sky in the west, where still
lingered the sunset gold, we saw the wild toss of the horizon, shaggy
with forest and cliff, gripping the heart like the motive in a symphony,
and sending the sense of beauty all a-shiver through the mind--all these
surrounding islands standing above the water like low clouds, and like
them seeming to post along silently into the engulfing night. We heard
the musical drip-drip of the paddle, and the little wash of our waves on
the shore, and then suddenly we found ourselves at the opening of the
lagoon again, having made the complete circuit of our home.

The Reverend Timothy had awakened from sleep and was singing to himself;
and the sound of his voice as we glided down the fifty yards of enclosed
water was pleasant to hear and undeniably wholesome. We saw the glow of
the fire up among the trees on the ridge, and his shadow moving about as
he threw on more wood.

"There you are!" he called aloud. "Good again! Been setting the
night-lines, eh? Capital! And your mother's still fast asleep, Joan."

His cheery laugh floated across the water; he had not been in the least
disturbed by our absence, for old campers are not easily alarmed.

"Now, remember," he went on, after we had told our little tale of travel
by the fire, and Mrs. Maloney had asked for the fourth time exactly
where her tent was and whether the door faced east or south, "every one
takes their turn at cooking breakfast, and one of the men is always out
at sunrise to catch it first. Hubbard, I'll toss you which you do in the
morning and which I do!" He lost the toss. "Then I'll catch it," I said,
laughing at his discomfi