way?"

"Oh! Noel, the time has seemed so long, so wearisome. There has been no
one here to speak to, except for a week or two when Eugene Lacroix came
home for his holidays. I used to watch him paint, and he talked to me
about his work at Laval."

"Marie, I don't like Eugene Lacroix. He is stupid, conceited,
impractical."

"Indeed, I think you are mistaken. M. Bois-le-Duc calls him a genius.
Eugene, too, is a most interesting companion, and he has told me many
tales of countries far beyond here."

"Well, he may be a genius, though I for my part cannot see it. And you,
my dear one, do you long to see those countries beyond the sea? I know
I do. I am tired of this life, this continual struggle for a bare
existence. The same thing day after day, year after year; nothing new
happens. Why did M. Bois-le-Duc teach me of an outer world beyond the
bleak Gulf of St. Lawrence? Why did he teach me to read Virgil and Plato?
He did it for the best, no doubt; but I think he did wrong. He has
stirred up within me a restless evil spirit of discontent. Oh! Marie,
to think I am doomed to be a fisherman here all my life. It is hard."

"Yes, Noel, it is hard. It has always seemed to me that you with your
talents, your learning, are thrown away here. But why not go to Quebec or
Montreal? You would have a wider sphere there."

"I would go to-morrow, Marie, if it were not for one thing."

"What is that, Noel?"

"Marie, do you not know?"

"I suppose your reason is that you do not wish to leave your mother,"
said the girl hesitatingly.

"No, Marie, that is not the reason. My mother would let me go to-morrow,
if I wished."

"Then I cannot understand why you stay. You would do much better in
Quebec, you with your ability."

"You cannot understand, Marie? You do not know that it is because of
_you_, and you alone, that I stay on in this place, smothering all my
ambitions, my hopes of advancement. No, Marie, you say you do not
understand. If you spoke more truly you would say you did not care where
I went."

"Noel," said the girl gently, and looking distressed, "you know, my dear
one, that I do care very much, and I cannot think why you speak to me in
that bitter way."

"Marie, do you care? You have seemed lately so indifferent to my plans,
and it has made me angry, for, my darling, you must have seen that my
love for you is deep, strong, mighty, like the flow of yonder great
river. Aye, it is stronger, greater, more unchangeable