side for a minute,
looking down on the little grave beneath us. I would have gladly changed
places then with the lonely English girl, who had pined away in this
remote island.

After that short, silent pause, we went slowly homeward along the quiet,
almost solitary lanes. Twice we met a fisherman, with his creel and nets
across his shoulders, who bade us good-night; but no one else crossed
our path.

It was a profound monotony, a seclusion I should not have had courage to
face wittingly. But I had been led into it, and I dared not quit it. How
long was it to last?

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

A FALSE STEP.

A day came after the winter storms, early, in March, with all the
strength and sweetness of spring in it; though there was sharpness
enough in the air to make my veins tingle. The sun was shining with so
much heat in it, that I might be out-of-doors all day under the shelter
of the rocks, in the warm, southern nooks where the daisies were
growing. The birds sang more blithely than they had ever done before; a
lark overhead, flinging down his triumphant notes; a thrush whistling
clearly in a hawthorn-bush hanging over the cliff; and the cry of the
gulls flitting about the rocks; I could hear them all at the same
moment, with the deep, quiet tone of the sea sounding below their gay
music. Tardif was going out to fish, and I had helped him to pack his
basket. From my niche in the rocks I could see him getting out of the
harbor, and he had caught a glimpse of me, and stood up in his boat,
bareheaded, bidding me good-by. I began to sing before he was quite out
of hearing, for he paused upon his oars listening, and had given me a
joyous shout, and waved his hat round his head, when he was sure it was
I who was singing. Nothing could be plainer than that he had gone away
more glad at heart than he had been all the winter, simply because he
believed that I was growing lighter-hearted. I could not help laughing,
yet being touched and softened at the thought of his pleasure. What a
good fellow he was! I had proved him by this time, and knew him to be
one of the truest, bravest, most unselfish men on God's earth. How good
a thing it was that I had met with him that wild night last October,
when I had fled like one fleeing from a bitter slavery! For a few
minutes my thoughts hovered about that old, miserable, evil time; but I
did not care to ponder over past troubles. It was easy to forget them
to-day, and I would forg