tle while got
up and went without a word.... And he sat in the garden thinking to
himself, had he been lax to Uncle Robin in any way? He might have
written oftener. It wasn't fair to have kept the old man worried and he
an apprentice at sea. Yes, he could have written, could have written
oftener. And thought more. And there were books he might have brought
the old man--books from 'Frisco and New York and Naples. The book-stores
were so far from the quays, and he had put it off. And he could have so
easily.... When one is young, one is so thoughtless.... A message from
somewhere ran into his consciousness like a ripple of code-flags: 'It
doesn't matter, dear laddie. Don't be taking on. Don't be blaming
yourself. You were the dear lad ... and I'm happy....'

Ah, yes, but a great tree was gone from the garden. An actuality had
been converted into thought and emotion, and thought and emotion may be
all that endure, and an actuality be unreal ... but an actuality is so
warm ... so reassuring....

He rose and went toward the house, and as he walked he met her....

"Claire-Anne, do you mind if I go back to the ship?... Somehow, I'm a
little lost...."

"There is a carriage waiting for you outside."

For the first time it occurred to him that in this occult experience she
had not uttered one jarring note. She had not asked questions, nor had
she tried to argue with him, as other women would have, telling him he
fancied all this. Nor had she bothered him with vain, unwelcome
sentiment. She had just--stood by, as at sea. And how swiftly she had
divined his need of privacy, of his own ship!

"There are none like you in this world, Claire-Anne," he told her.

"I am what you make me, Shane--what you need of me." Her hand sought his
in the stilly dusk. "Come back only when you are ready dearest ...
dearest ... I am here! Always here!"

Section 8

Though she never said so, yet he knew she wanted to go on board the
ship that was so much of his life, and one day he had her rowed across
to the _Ulster Lady_. He smiled as he saw how firmly she got on board,
though ships were unknown to her. Queer, how she never lost dignity,
grace. And it was so easy for a woman to look silly, undignified,
getting on board ship. She never disappointed him....

She mused over the sweet line of the schooner, the tapering masts, the
snug canvas, the twinkling brass. The wake of a passing paddle-steamer
made the boat pitch gently. It was like bre