tranger did so, and they went on towards the ridge,
till, reaching the lime-kiln standing there the stranger abandoned his
hold, saying: 'Thank you for your assistance, sir. Good-night.'

'I don't think I recognize your voice as a native's?'

'No, it is not. I am a Jersey man. Goodnight, sir.'

'Good-night, if you are sure you can get on. Here, take this stick--it
is no use to me.' Saying which, Pierston put his walking-stick into the
young man's hand.

'Thank you again. I shall be quite recovered when I have rested a minute
or two. Don't let me detain you, please.'

The stranger as he spoke turned his face towards the south, where the
Beal light had just come into view, and stood regarding it with an
obstinate fixity. As he evidently wished to be left to himself Jocelyn
went on, and troubled no more about him, though the desire of the young
man to be rid of his company, after accepting his walking-stick and
his arm, had come with a suddenness that was almost emotional; and
impressionable as Jocelyn was, no less now than in youth, he was
saddened for a minute by the sense that there were people in the world
who did not like even his sympathy.

However, a pleasure which obliterated all this arose when Pierston drew
near to the house that was likely to be his dear home on all future
visits to the isle, perhaps even his permanent home as he grew older and
the associations of his youth re-asserted themselves. It had been, too,
his father's house, the house in which he was born, and he amused his
fancy with plans for its enlargement under the supervision of Avice and
himself. It was a still greater pleasure to behold a tall and shapely
figure standing against the light of the open door and presumably
awaiting him.

Avice, who it was, gave a little jump when she recognized him, but
dutifully allowed him to kiss her when he reached her side; though her
nervousness was only too apparent, and was like a child's towards a
parent who may prove stern.

'How dear of you to guess that I might come on at once instead of
later!' said Jocelyn. 'Well, if I had stayed in the town to go to the
shops and so on, I could not have got here till the last train. How is
mother?--our mother, as I shall call her soon.'

Avice said that her mother had not been so well--she feared not nearly
so well since her return from London, so that she was obliged to keep
her room. The visit had perhaps been too much for her. 'But she will
not acknowl