all the light, soft rings of curling
hair that covered her head, and he had seen her laughter, and the oval
turn of the dimpled chin, and within the face he had seen what he knew
now he had always seen, but never before so clearly--the soul that was
strong to suffer as well as strong to enjoy.

By the narrow farm-path which his horse was treading Caius came to the
road he had left, and, turning homeward, could not help coming in front
of the little cottage whose back wall he had so lately visited. He had
no thought but of passing as quickly as might be, but he saw O'Shea's
wife standing before the door, looking for him with her quiet, eager
eyes. She came out a few steps, and Caius, hardly stopping, stooped his
head to hear what she had to say.

"I won't tell her," said the woman; then she pleaded: "Let her be, poor
thing! Let her be happy while she can."

She had slipped back into the house; Caius had gone on; and then he knew
that he had this new word to puzzle over. For why should he be supposed
to molest the happy hours of the woman he loved, and what could be the
sorrow that dogged her life, if her happy hours were supposed to be rare
and precious? O'Shea's wife he had observed before this to be a faithful
and trusted friend of her mistress; no doubt she spoke then with the
authority of knowledge and love.

Caius went home, and put away his horse, and entered his small house.
Everything was changed to him; a knowledge that he had vaguely dreaded
had come, but with a grief that he had never dreamed of. For he had
fancied that if it should turn out that his lady-love and Madame Le
Maitre were one, his would only be the disappointment of having loved a
shadow, a character of his own creating, and that the woman herself he
would not love; but now that was not what had befallen him.

All the place was deserted; not a house had shown a sign of life as he
passed. All the world had gone after the seals. This, no doubt, was the
reason why the two women who had not cared for the hunting had taken
that day for a holiday. Caius stood at his window and looked out on the
sea of ice for a little while. He was alone in the whole locality, but
he would not be less alone when the people returned. They had their
interests, their hopes and fears; he had nothing in common with any of
them; he was alone with his pain, and his pain was just this, that he
was alone. Then he looked out further and further into the world from
which he