er's
Tickle, he shuddered, and sighed, and said that Jagger had planned a
noble death for him: but said no more; nor has he since spoken the name
of that bad man. And we sent the master of the _Jessie Dodd_ to St.
Johns by the last mail-boat of that season--and did not seek to punish
him: because he had lost all that he had, and was most penitent; and
because Jagger was dead, and had died the death that he did.... The last
of the doctor's small patrimony repaired the damage done our business by
the wreck of the _Trap and Seine_: and brought true my old dream of an
established trade, done with honour and profit to ourselves and the folk
of our coast, and of seven schooners, of which, at last, the twins were
made masters of two.... And that winter my sister was very happy--ay, as
happy (though 'tis near sin to say it) as her dear self deserved. Sweet
sister--star of my life!... The doctor, too, was happy; and not once
(and many a cold night I shivered in my meagre nightgown at his door
to discover it)--not once did he suffer the old agony I had known him to
bear. And when, frankly, I asked him why this was----

"Love, Davy," he answered.

"Love?" said I.

"And labour."

"An' labour?"

"And the Gospel according to Tommy."

"Sure," I asked, puzzled, "what's that?"

"Faith," he answered.

"'Tis queer!" I mused.

"Just faith," he repeated. "Just faith in the loving-kindness of the
dear God. Just faith--with small regard for creeds and forms."

This he said with a holy twinkle.

* * * * *

But that was long ago. Since then I have been to the colleges and
hospitals of the South, and have come back, here, in great joy, to live
my life, serving the brave, kind folk, who are mine own people, heartily
loved by me: glad that I am Labrador born and bred--proud of the brave
blood in my great body, of the stout purpose in my heart: of which
(because of pity for all inlanders and the folk of the South) I may not
with propriety boast. Doctor Davy, they call me, now. But I have not
gone lacking. I am not without realization of my largest hope. The
decks are often wet--wet and white. They heave underfoot--and are wet
and white--while the winds come rushing from the gray horizon. Ah, I
love the sea--the sweet, wild sea: loveliest in her adorable rage, like
a woman!... And my father's house is now enlarged, and is an hospital;
and the doctor's sloop is now grown to a schooner, in which he goes