pacities.

After all there was some reason in the objections urged against Olivia.
The dislike of all insulated people against foreigners is natural
enough; and in her case there was a mystery which I must solve before I
could think of asking her to become my wife. Ask her to become my wife!
That was impossible now. I had chosen my wife months before I saw her.

I went mechanically through the routine of my morning's work, and it was
late in the afternoon before I could get away to ride to the Vale. My
mother knew where I was going, and gazed wistfully into my face, but
without otherwise asking me any questions. At the last moment, as I
touched Madam's bridle, I looked down at her standing on the door-step.
"Cheer up, mother!" I said, almost gayly, "it will all come right."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.

ALL WRONG.

By this time you know that I could not ride along the flat, open shore
between St. Peter-Port and the Vale without having a good sight of Sark,
though it lay just a little behind me. It was not in human nature to
turn my back doggedly upon it. I had never seen it look nearer; the
channel between us scarcely seemed a mile across. The old windmill above
the Havre Gosselin stood out plainly. I almost fancied that but for
Breckhou I could have seen Tardif's house, where my darling was living.
My heart leaped at the mere thought of it. Then I shook Madam's bridle
about her neck, and she carried me on at a sharp canter toward Captain
Carey's residence.

I saw Julia standing at a window up-stairs, gazing down the long white
road, which runs as straight as an arrow through the Braye du Valle to
L'Ancresse Common.

She must have seen Madam and me half a mile away; but she kept her post
motionless as a sentinel, until I jumped down to open the gate. Then she
vanished.

The servant-man was at the door by the time I reached it, and Johanna
herself was on the threshold, with her hands outstretched and her face
radiant. I was as welcome as the prodigal son, and she was ready to fall
on my neck and kiss me.

"I felt sure of you," she said, in a low voice. "I trusted to your good
sense and honor, and they have not failed you. Thank God you are come!
Julia has neither ate nor slept since I brought her here."

She led me to her own private sitting-room, where I found Julia standing
by the fireplace, and leaning against it, as if she could not stand
alone. When I went up to her and took her hand, she flung her