was Tim; for she was of
the Tomboy kind, and had no imagination. But Debby was enough to make a
sound and seasoned heart to ache, as she lay in her little bed, with
the flush of sleep deepening the delicate tint of her cheeks, shedding
bright innocence fresh from heaven on the tranquil droop of eyelid and
the smiling curve of lip. Her hair lay fluttered, as if by play with the
angels that protected her; and if she could not see her heavenly Father,
it was not because she was out of His sight.

A better tear than was ever shed by self-pity, or any other selfishness,
ran down the cheek she had kissed so often, and fell upon her coaxing,
nestling neck. Then Dan, with his candle behind the curtain, set a long
light kiss upon the forehead of his darling, and with a heart so full,
and yet so empty, took one more gaze at her, and then was gone. With the
basket in his hand, he dropped softly from his window upon the pile
of seaweed at the back of the house--collected to make the walls
wholesome--and then, caring little what his course might be, was led
perhaps by the force of habit down the foot-path towards the beach. So
late at night, it was not likely that any one would disturb him there,
and no one in the cottage which he had left would miss him before the
morning. The end of October now was near, the nights were long, and he
need not hurry. He might even lie down in his favourite boat, the best
of her size in Springhaven, the one he had built among the rabbits.
There he could say good-bye to all that he had known and loved so long,
and be off before dawn, to some place where he might earn his crust and
think his thoughts.

CHAPTER XXXI

SORE TEMPTATION

When a man's spirit and heart are low, and the world seems turned
against him, he had better stop both ears than hearken to the sound of
the sad sea waves at night. Even if he can see their movement, with the
moon behind them, drawing paths of rippled light, and boats (with white
sails pluming shadow, or thin oars that dive for gems), and perhaps a
merry crew with music, coming home not all sea-sick--well, even so, in
the summer sparkle, the long low fall of the waves is sad. But how much
more on a winter night, when the moon is away below the sea, and weary
waters roll unseen from a vast profundity of gloom, fall unreckoned, and
are no more than a wistful moan, as man is!

The tide was at quarter-ebb, and a dismal haze lay thick on shore and
sea. It was not en