ain on the island fall into
a trance while the vapour is there. A strange thing! Some never wake
from it; some lose their senses; the negroes alone seem able to live
through it. The vapours arise quite suddenly; we ring the alarm-bell to
send the people to the ships.

"January 15th.--We returned to the island to-day. How blind and selfish
some people are! I do believe that Aunt Rachel is content to live on
this dreadful place. She is infatuated with Edmond. 'I am anchored
securely in a home: she says. 'The house under the sea is a young man's
romantic fancy.' The rest is meaningless to her--a man's whim. 'I
cannot dissipate my fortune on Ken's Island.' Aunt Rachel was always a
miser.

"February 2d.--This morning Edmond came to me for that which he calls
'an understanding.' His affection distresses me. Oh, it might all be so
different if I would but say 'yes.' And what prevents me--the voices I
have heard on the reef; or is it because I know--I know?

"February 9th.--I am on the island again and the sun is shining. What I
have suffered none shall ever know. I prefer Edmond Czerny's anger to
his love. We understand each other now.

"February 21st.--My message to the sea remains unanswered. Will it be
forever?

"March 3d.--If Jasper Begg should come to me, how would they receive
him? How could he help me? I do not know--and yet my woman's heart says
'Come!'

"April 4th.--There has been a short recurrence of the sleep-time. A
ship struck upon the reef, and the crew rowed ashore to the island. I
saw them last night in the moonlight, from my windows. They fell one by
one at the border of the wood and slept. You could count their bodies
in the clear white light. I tried to shut the sight from my eyes, but
it followed me to my bed-room!

"May 3d.--I whispered my message to the sea again, but am alone--God
knows how much alone!"

I folded up the paper and looked at the others. Peter Bligh's pipe had
gone out and lay idle in his hand. Dolly Venn was still curled at my
feet. Seth Barker I do not believe had budged an inch the whole time I
was reading. The story gripped them like a vice--and who shall wonder
at that? For, mark you, it might yet be our story.

"Peter," said I, "you have heard what Mme. Czerny says, and you know
now as much as I do. I am waiting for your notion."

He picked up his pipe and began to fill it again.

"Captain," says he, "what notions can I have which wouldn't be in any
sane head? This isl