ng her ineradicably
before Code's eyes--and every one else's.

As she sat near the window and saw the sunset glow die over the
mountain ridge she asked herself what she had achieved. Apparently
very little. She felt the futility of human endeavor and desire. To
her knowledge Code was in love with nobody, although rumor had for
years linked his name with Nellie Tanner's. That was exploded now, for
Nellie was engaged to Nat Burns.

_Why_ did he not respond?

Slowly her smile returned. He would respond when he had heard certain
other things. Then he would forget any one else but her--if there was
any one else. Her heart leaped at the thought.

As it became dark she rang the bell.

"Light the candles in the drawing-room," she said to the servant who
entered. "You remember that Mrs. Tanner is coming for dinner?"

"Yes, madam."

"Very well. That is all." The servant withdrew.

There was nothing unusual in the fact of Mrs. Tanner coming for dinner
in the evening to the big house. Elsa simply could not eat all her
meals alone, and her old friends at the village were constantly
receiving invitations.

Mrs. Tanner arrived at half-past six. It was her first visit since the
departure of the fleet several weeks before, and there was plenty to
talk about. But Ma Tanner wisely reserved her conversation until after
the meal, for the "vittles" of Mallaby House were famous the whole
length of the New Brunswick coast.

Afterward when they had retired to Elsa's pink and gray boudoir, the
eternal envy of Grande Mignon womanhood, the talk flowed freely.

"It's this way, Elsa," declared ma confidentially. "I think Nellie is
pretty well took care of. Now young Nat Burns, as you know, is pretty
well off, as the sayin' goes on the island. He really wouldn't have to
fish if he didn't want to. His father didn't neglect _him_ when his
time come."

Ma Tanner did not see the change in Elsa's expression. The pupils of
her magnificent black eyes expanded and the delicate brows drew
together over the bridge of her nose. The close mouth, with its ugly
set, would not have been recognized by any but lifelong friends.

"And Nat's about's good as any boy," went on ma. "Boys is turr'ble
hard to fetch up so they don't disgrace ye and send ye to the grave
with gray head bowed in sorter, as the poet says. Nat ain't bad. He
speaks sharp to his mother once in a while, but la--what boy don't? I
think he'll treat Nellie right and be a good man to he