his white shirt collar turned over a loosely tied
scarf; he was probably a young sailor who, after a long voyage, had
again come near his home and was permitted to pay it a short visit.

The path was just as he had left it, perhaps a little more uneven than
in the old days; the doves were cooing, and the white cat purred in the
doorway just as of yore. The new-comer approached with noiseless tread,
softly turned the handle of the door, and entered.

A gray-haired woman sat inside in a large armchair. She was the young
man's grandmother. With her were three girls--two were fair, the third
was dark, with starry eyes and a face like the young dawn.

All started at his entrance, exclaiming in one breath; "William!" The
two sisters ran to meet him, the grandmother, unable to leave her
chair, only held out her arms, his betrothed bride was the last to greet
him that she might remain the longer in his embrace.

There was great delight in the little circle, a hundred questions rained
upon him.

"It is a whole year since we saw you last," said the grandmother, with
tears in her eyes.

"A whole eternity," murmured his betrothed bride, laying her head on his
shoulder.

"You won't leave us again, will you?" asked his youngest sister,
clinging to her brother's neck as if she could hold him at her side.

"I can stay an hour. The ship is in the offing while the sailors are
getting a supply of fresh water on shore."

"Must you still remain absent from us?" asked the gray-haired woman,
sighing.

"Unfortunately, yes. I expected to attain my purpose in a shorter time,
but fate is against me; whenever I have thought I was approaching my
goal, I was thrust back. Twice I have acquired some property, but
ill-luck deprived me of it, and I was forced to begin anew."

"Ill luck?" asked the younger sister, "that means shipwreck and pirates,
doesn't it?"

"Yes, shipwreck."

"And not pirates? We have feared them most! How often we have said that
they might capture or kill you, leaving us to weep for you forever."

The young man smiled.

"Fear nothing from them, dear. They will not harm me. At the utmost,
they will rob me of my property, and you would receive me kindly, were I
to return penniless, would you not?"

"Ah, if only you would never go," whispered his beautiful fiancee.

"Nay, dearest, I cannot let you spend your life here; I wish to see you
in splendor. I long to take you to some great, beautiful city, where you
can