iving the waves before it. There was no steamer
going across, and Captain Carey's yacht could not brave the winds. I
began to be afraid that Martin and I would not visit the place, which of
all others in this half of the world was dearest to me.

"To-morrow," said Martin one night, after scanning the sunset, the sky,
and the storm-glass, "if you can be up at five o'clock, we will cross to
Sark."

I was up at four, in the first gray dawn of a September morning. We had
the yacht to ourselves, for Captain Carey declined running the risk of
being weather-bound on the island--a risk which we were willing to
chance. The Havre Gosselin was still in morning shadow when we ran into
it; but the water between us and Guernsey was sparkling and dancing in
the early light, as we slowly climbed the rough path of the cliff. My
eyes were dazzled with the sunshine, and dim with tears, when I first
caught sight of the little cottage of Tardif, who was stretching out his
nets, on the stone causeway under the windows. Martin called to him, and
he flung down his nets and ran to meet us.

"We are come to spend the day with you, Tardif," I cried, when he was
within hearing of my voice.

"It will be a day from heaven," he said, taking off his fisherman's cap,
and looking round at the blue sky with its scattered clouds, and the sea
with its scattered islets.

It was like a day from heaven. We wandered about the cliffs, visiting
every spot which was most memorable to either of us, and Tardif rowed us
in his boat past the entrance of the Gouliot Caves. He was very quiet,
but he listened to our free talk together, for I could not think of good
old Tardif as any stranger; and he seemed to watch us both, with a
far-off, faithful, quiet look upon his face. Sometimes I fancied he did
not bear what we were saying, and again his eyes would brighten with a
sudden gleam, as if his whole soul and heart shone through them upon us.
It was the last day of our holiday, for in the morning we were about to
return to London, and to work; but it was such a perfect day as I had
never known before.

"You are quite happy, Mrs. Martin Dobree?" said Tardif to me, when we
were parting from him.

"I did not know I could ever be so happy," I answered.

"We saw him to the last moment standing on the cliff, and waving his hat
to us high above his head. Now and then there came a shout across the
water. Before we were quite beyond ear-shot, we heard Tardif's voice
ca