hat kind of work won't go down in Sercq,
let me tell you. Ma fe, no!" and the crowd dribbled away through the tunnel
to get back to its work again.

The Senechal was busy planting late cabbages and time was precious. The
grave-faced fisherman, who had stood behind the crowd, tramped up the
narrow road by his side.

"Well, Carre, you're rid of him. I hope for good," said the Senechal.

"Before God, I hope so, M. le Senechal! He has a devil."

"How goes it with Mistress Rachel this morning?"

"She says little."

"But thinks the more, no doubt. She has suffered more than we know, I
fear."

"Like enough."

"I never could understand why she threw herself away on a man like that."

"It was not for want of warning."

"I am sure. Well, she has paid. I hope this ends it."

But the other shook his head doubtfully, and as they parted at the
crossways, he said gloomily, "She'll know no peace till he's under the sea
or the sod." And the Senechal nodded and strode thoughtfully away towards
Beauregard, while Carre went on to Havre Gosselin.

When he reached the cottage at the head of the chasm, he lifted the latch
and went in. He was confronted by a small boy of three or so, who at sound
of the latch had snatched a stick from the floor, with a frown of vast
determination on his baby face--an odd, meaningful action.

At sight of Philip Carre, however, the crumpled face relaxed instantly, and
the youngster launched himself at him with a shout of welcome.

At sound of the latch, too, a girlish figure had started up from the
lit-de-fouaille in the corner by the hearth--the great square couch built
out into the room and filled with dried bracken, the universal lounge in
the Islands, and generally of a size large enough to accommodate the entire
family.

This was Carre's daughter, Rachel, Martel's wife. Her face was very comely.
She was the Island beauty when Martel married her, and much sought after,
which made her present state the more bitter to contemplate. Her face was
whiter even than of late, at the moment, by reason of the dark circles of
suffering round her eyes and the white cloth bound round her head. She sat
up and looked at her father, with the patient expectancy of one who had
endured much and doubted still what might be in store for her.

Carre gripped the small boy's two hands in his big brown one, and the
youngster with a shout threw back his body and planted his feet on his
grandfather's leg, and walked