y, made her doubly strong. Then, too, she had
not been unfamiliar with loneliness. In her youthful days, before Marie
de Vignan had come to live with her, she had often been left alone for
weeks, with no one to relieve the monotony of her existence save old
Bastienne and the other servants; and during these periods she had
rarely spoken to any human being, save to issue some command. And now,
though she was absolutely alone, the struggle for existence, and the
presence of the young bear, her sole living companion, saved her reason.
Sometimes, however, the unwonted sound of her own voice made her start
and wonder if she who had spoken could really be one with the desolate
creature who trod this snow-clad island, hopelessly scanning the horizon
for some sign that there was a world other than the narrow one within
whose limits she was hemmed.

Night she dreaded. She kept her fire going through the long hours of
darkness, but often the glowing embers and tongues of flame would take
weird shapes before her eyes. Across the island the wind swept and
moaned, and every sound seemed to her the voice of some of the fabled
evil spirits of the north. Often she would wake from sleep feeling
ghostly presences near her--at her very side. At such times she would
creep close to her strange companion, Francois, and nestle against his
shaggy coat. The warmth of his body, and the thick, soft rug which they
had made from the skin of the old she-bear, were all that saved her from
perishing of the bitter cold of that terrible winter.

It was with unutterable relief that she saw the spring sun return, and
felt the warm south wind breathe upon the island hollows. Daily she had
watched with hopeless eyes for the sail that never came; but now, as the
green shoots began to glisten here and there on the brown sod, she once
more built her watchfire high on the cliff, and kept it blazing night
and day.

Winter seemed suddenly to have given place to summer. All through April
the warm sun streamed down upon the island, and for hours she sat
looking out over the blue stretch of scarcely moving water. But fickle
spring had a change in store. A chill, icy breath swept down from the
north; the pines and birches moaned and sighed once more; and the great
green waves crashed foaming on the beach. Her heart sank within her;
but ever southward she gazed. An inward voice seemed still to assure her
that help was on its way to her, and that her sufferings were