of you," he said, as he went out.

Anne, pierced by the unusual wistfulness of his farewell, ran to the
door after him.

"Come back soon, Captain Jim," she called, as he passed through the
little gate hung between the firs.

"Ay, ay," he called cheerily back to her. But Captain Jim had sat by
the old fireside of the house of dreams for the last time.

Anne went slowly back to the others.

"It's so--so pitiful to think of him going all alone down to that
lonely Point," she said. "And there is no one to welcome him there."

"Captain Jim is such good company for others that one can't imagine him
being anything but good company for himself," said Owen. "But he must
often be lonely. There was a touch of the seer about him tonight--he
spoke as one to whom it had been given to speak. Well, I must be
going, too."

Anne and Gilbert discreetly melted away; but when Owen had gone Anne
returned, to find Leslie standing by the hearth.

"Oh, Leslie--I know--and I'm so glad, dear," she said, putting her arms
about her.

"Anne, my happiness frightens me," whispered Leslie. "It seems too
great to be real--I'm afraid to speak of it--to think of it. It seems
to me that it must just be another dream of this house of dreams and it
will vanish when I leave here."

"Well, you are not going to leave here--until Owen takes you. You are
going to stay with me until that times comes. Do you think I'd let you
go over to that lonely, sad place again?"

"Thank you, dear. I meant to ask you if I might stay with you. I
didn't want to go back there--it would seem like going back into the
chill and dreariness of the old life again. Anne, Anne, what a friend
you've been to me--'a good, sweet woman--true and faithful and to be
depended on'--Captain Jim summed you up."

"He said 'women,' not 'woman,'" smiled Anne. "Perhaps Captain Jim sees
us both through the rose-colored spectacles of his love for us. But we
can try to live up to his belief in us, at least."

"Do you remember, Anne," said Leslie slowly, "that I once said--that
night we met on the shore--that I hated my good looks? I did--then.
It always seemed to me that if I had been homely Dick would never have
thought of me. I hated my beauty because it had attracted him, but
now--oh, I'm glad that I have it. It's all I have to offer Owen,--his
artist soul delights in it. I feel as if I do not come to him quite
empty-handed."

"Owen loves your beauty, Leslie. Who wou