old to a
friend the history of that, his one and only love-story. The result had
not been satisfactory. His companion was quite sure that Caius had been
the subject of an artful trick, and he did not fail to suggest that the
woman had wanted modesty. Nothing, he observed, was more common than for
men who were in love to attribute mental and physical charms to women
who were in reality vulgar and blatant. Caius, feeling that he could
advance no argument, refused to discuss the subject; it was months
before he had the same liking for this friend, and it was a sign that
what the other called "the sea-myth" was losing its power over him when
he returned to this friendship.

Caius did not make many friends. It was not his nature to do so, and
though constant to the few that he had, he did not keep up any very
lively intercourse. It was partly because of this notable failure in
social duty that, when he at last decided that the work of preparation
must be considered at an end, and the active work of life begun, no
opening immediately revealed itself to his inquiring gaze. Two vacant
positions in his native country he heard of and coveted, and before he
returned he gathered such testimonials as he could, and sent them in
advance, offering himself as a candidate. When he landed in Canada he
went at once to his first college to beg in person that the influence of
his former teachers might be used on his behalf. The three years that
had passed without correspondence had made a difference in the attitude
of those who could help him; many of his friends also were dispersed,
gone from the place. He waited in Montreal until he heard that he was
not the accepted candidate for the better of the two positions, and that
the other post would not be filled till the early spring.

Caius went home again. He observed that his parents looked older. The
leaves were gone from the trees, the days were short, and the earth was
cold. The sea between the little island and the red sandstone cliff was
utterly lonely. Caius walked by its side sometimes, but there was no
mermaid there.

_BOOK II._

CHAPTER I.

THE HAND THAT BECKONED.

It was evening. Caius was watering his father's horses. Between the
barns and the house the space was grass; a log fence divided it, and
against this stood a huge wooden pump and a heavy log hollowed out for a
trough. House and barns were white; the house was large, but the barns
were many times large