for
sentimental reasons, what had become of the man with whom I eloped in
the first flush of my young womanhood, and only missed marrying by my
own will.'

Pierston bowed.

'Well, that was how the acquaintance between the children began, and
their passionate attachment to each other.' She detailed how Avice had
induced her mother to let her take lessons in French of young Leverre,
rendering their meetings easy. Marcia had never thought of hindering
their intimacy, for in her recent years of affliction she had acquired
a new interest in the name she had refused to take in her purse-proud
young womanhood; and it was not until she knew how determined Mrs.
Pierston was to make her daughter Jocelyn's wife that she had objected
to her son's acquaintance with Avice. But it was too late to hinder what
had been begun. He had lately been ill, and she had been frightened by
his not returning home the night before. The note she had received from
him that day had only informed her that Avice and himself had gone to be
married immediately--whither she did not know.

'What do you mean to do?' she asked.

'I do nothing: there is nothing to be done.... It is how I served her
grandmother--one of Time's revenges.'

'Served her so for me.'

'Yes. Now she me for your son.'

Marcia paused a long while thinking that over, till arousing herself she
resumed: 'But can't we inquire which way they went out of the island, or
gather some particulars about them?'

'Aye--yes. We will.'

And Pierston found himself as in a dream walking beside Marcia along the
road in their common quest. He discovered that almost every one of the
neighbouring inhabitants knew more about the lovers than he did himself.

At the corner some men were engaged in conversation on the occurrence.
It was allusive only, but knowing the dialect, Pierston and Marcia
gathered its import easily. As soon as it had got light that morning one
of the boats was discovered missing from the creek below, and when the
flight of the lovers was made known it was inferred that they were the
culprits.

Unconsciously Pierston turned in the direction of the creek, without
regarding whether Marcia followed him, and though it was darker than
when Avice and Leverre had descended in the morning he pursued his way
down the incline till he reached the water-side.

'Is that you, Jocelyn?'

The inquiry came from Marcia. She was behind him, about half-way down.

'Yes,' he said, noticing t