l the need of the motherly powers of
Heaven. Caius sat with Day for two hours, and Josephine did not come
down to speak to him. He was glad to know that Day's evening passed the
more easily because he sat there with him; he was glad of that when he
was glad of nothing that concerned himself.

Day and Caius did not talk about death or sorrow, or anything like that.
All the remarks that they interchanged turned upon the horses Day was
rearing and their pastures. Day told that he had found the grass on the
little island rich.

"I remember finding two of your colts there one day when I explored it.
It was four years ago," said Caius dreamily.

Day took no interest in this lapse of time.

"It's an untidy bit of land," he said, "and I can't clear it. 'Tisn't
mine; but no one heeds the colts grazing."

"Do you swim them across?" asked Caius, half in polite interest, half
because his memory was wandering upon the water.

"They got so sharp at swimming, I had to raise the fence on the top of
the cliff," said Day.

The evening wore away.

In the morning Caius, smitten with the fever of hope and fear, rose up
at dawn, and, as in a former time he had been wont to do, ran to the
seashore by the nearest path and walked beside the edge of the waves.
He turned, as he had always done, towards the little island and the Day
Farm.

How well he knew every outward curve and indentation of the soft red
shelving bank! how well he knew the colouring of the cool scene in the
rising day, the iridescent light upon the lapping waves, the glistening
of the jasper red of the damp beach, and the earthen pinks of the upper
cliffs! The sea birds with low pathetic note called out to him
concerning their memories of the first dawn in which he had walked there
searching for the body of the dead baby. Then the cool tints of dawn
passed into the golden sunrise, and the birds went on calling to him
concerning the many times in which he had trodden this path as a lover
whose mistress had seemed so strange a denizen of this same wide sea.

Caius did not think with scorn now of this old puzzle and bewilderment,
but remembered it fondly, and went and sat beneath baby Day's epitaph,
on the very rock from which he had first seen Josephine. It was very
early in the morning; the sun had risen bright and warm. At that season
even this desolate bit of shore wag garlanded above with the most lovely
green; the little island was green as an emerald.

Caius d