f the old sort. The men smoked and most of the women knitted while
they talked. They were pleased to find that Nora did not put on any
airs. Old Jonas Myers bluntly told her that he didn't see as her year
among rich folks had done her much good, after all.

"You're just the same as when you went away," he said. "They haven't
made a fine lady of you. Folks here thought you'd be something
wonderful."

Nora laughed. She was glad that they did not find her changed. Old
Nathan chuckled in his dry way. There was a difference in the girl,
and he saw it, though the neighbours did not, but it was not the
difference he had feared. His daughter was not utterly taken from him
yet.

Nora sat by her mother and was happy. But as the evening wore away she
grew very quiet, and watched the door with something piteous in her
eyes. Old Nathan noticed it and thought she was tired. He gave the
curious neighbours a good-natured hint, and they presently withdrew.
When they had all gone Nora went out to the door alone.

The wind had died down and the shore, gemmed with its twinkling
lights, was very still, for it was too late an hour for Racicot folk
to be abroad in the mackerel season. The moon was rising and the
harbour was a tossing expanse of silver waves. The mellow light fell
on a tall figure lurking at the angle of the road that led past the
Shelley cottage. Nora saw and recognized it. She flew down the sandy
slope with outstretched hands.

"Rob--Rob!"

"Nora!" he said huskily, holding out his hand. But she flung herself
on his breast and clung to him, half laughing, half crying.

"Oh, Rob! I've been looking for you all the evening. Every time there
was a step I said to myself, 'That is Rob, now.' And when the door
opened to let in another, my heart died within me. I dared not even
ask after you for fear of what they might tell me. Why didn't you
come?"

"I didn't know that I'd be welcome," he whispered, holding her closer
to him. "I've been hanging about thinking to get a glimpse of you
unbeknown. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me tonight."

"Not want to see you! Oh, Rob, this evening at Dalveigh, when I looked
across to Racicot, it was you I thought of before all--even before
Mother."

She drew back and looked at him with her soul in her eyes.

"What a splendid fellow you are--how handsome you are, Rob!" she
cried. All the reserve of womanhood fell away from her in the inrush
of emotions. For the moment she was