e
blood came back to her cheeks, and her dimples were no longer pathetic,
but eloquent of sweetness and innocence, and her eyes turned moist and
brilliant, glowing with the glory of womanhood first recognized, tender
and pure. Ah, my sister--lovely in person but lovelier far in heart and
mind--adorably innocent--troubled and destined to infinitely deeper
distress before the end--brave and true and hopeful through all the
chequered course of love! You had not known, dear heart, but then
discovered, all in a heavenly flash, what sickness you suffered of.

"Davy!" she whispered.

"Ay, dear?"

"I'm knowin'--now--what ails me."

I sat gazing at her in love and great awe. "'Tis not a wickedness,
Bessie," I declared.

"No, no!"

"'Tis not that. No, no! I knows 'tis not a sin."

"'Tis a holy thing," she said, turning, her eyes wide and solemn.

"A holy thing?"

"Ay--holy!"

I chanced to look out of the window. "Ecod!" I cried. "The Wreck Cove
skiff is in with Doctor Luke!"

Unfeeling, like all lads--in love with things seen--I ran out.

* * * * *

The doctor came ashore at the wharf in a state of wild elation. He made
a rush for me, caught me up, called to the crew of the skiff to come to
the house for tea--then shouldered me, against my laughing protest, and
started up the path.

"I'm back, safe and sound," cried he. "Davy, I have been to Wreck Cove
and back."

"An' you're wonderful happy," cried I, from the uncertain situation of
his shoulder.

"Happy? That's the word, Davy. I'm happy! And why?"

"Tell me."

"I've done a good deed. I've saved a man's right hand. I've done a good
deed for once," he repeated, between his teeth, "by God!"

There was something contagious in all this; and (I say it by way of
apology) I was ever the lad to catch at a rousing phrase.

"A good deed!" I exclaimed. "By God, you'll do----"

He thrashed me soundly on the spot.

XVII

HARD PRACTICE

I bore him no grudge--the chastisement had been fairly deserved: for
then, being loosed from parental restraint, I was by half too fond of
aping the ways and words of full-grown men; and I was not unaware of the
failing. However, the prediction on the tip of my tongue--that he would
live to do many another good deed--would have found rich fulfillment had
it been spoken. It was soon noised the length of the coast that a doctor
dwelt in our harbour--one of good heart and skill and courage: