e run, and the light
esteem in which they hold the deep tragedy they create.

That night, when Zephaniah, in his evening exercise, poured forth most
fervent thanksgivings for the deliverance, while Mrs. Pennel was sobbing
in her handkerchief, Miss Roxy was much scandalized by seeing the young
cause of all the disturbance sitting upon his heels, regarding the
emotion of the kneeling party with his wide bright eyes, without a wink
of compunction.

"Well, for her part," she said, "she hoped Cap'n Pennel would be blessed
in takin' that ar boy; but she was sure she didn't see much that looked
like it now."

* * * * *

The Rev. Mr. Sewell fished no more that day, for the draught from
fairy-land with which he had filled his boat brought up many thoughts
into his mind, which he pondered anxiously.

"Strange ways of God," he thought, "that should send to my door this
child, and should wash upon the beach the only sign by which he could be
identified. To what end or purpose? Hath the Lord a will in this
matter, and what is it?"

So he thought as he slowly rowed homeward, and so did his thoughts work
upon him that half way across the bay to Harpswell he slackened his oar
without knowing it, and the boat lay drifting on the purple and
gold-tinted mirror, like a speck between two eternities. Under such
circumstances, even heads that have worn the clerical wig for years at
times get a little dizzy and dreamy. Perhaps it was because of the
impression made upon him by the sudden apparition of those great dark
eyes and sable curls, that he now thought of the boy that he had found
floating that afternoon, looking as if some tropical flower had been
washed landward by a monsoon; and as the boat rocked and tilted, and the
minister gazed dreamily downward into the wavering rings of purple,
orange, and gold which spread out and out from it, gradually it seemed
to him that a face much like the child's formed itself in the waters;
but it was the face of a girl, young and radiantly beautiful, yet with
those same eyes and curls,--he saw her distinctly, with her thousand
rings of silky hair, bound with strings of pearls and clasped with
strange gems, and she raised one arm imploringly to him, and on the
wrist he saw the bracelet embroidered with seed pearls, and the letters
D.M. "Ah, Dolores," he said, "well wert thou called so. Poor Dolores! I
cannot help thee."

"What am I dreaming of?" said the Rev. Mr.