s to wander to the corner where the life-book lay, in all its
bravery of green and gold. But when his door finally closed behind
Anne and Leslie they knew that he went straight to it, and as they
walked home they pictured the delight of the old man poring over the
printed pages wherein his own life was portrayed with all the charm and
color of reality itself.

"I wonder how he will like the ending--the ending I suggested," said
Leslie.

She was never to know. Early the next morning Anne awakened to find
Gilbert bending over her, fully dressed, and with an expression of
anxiety on his face.

"Are you called out?" she asked drowsily.

"No. Anne, I'm afraid there's something wrong at the Point. It's an
hour after sunrise now, and the light is still burning. You know it
has always been a matter of pride with Captain Jim to start the light
the moment the sun sets, and put it out the moment it rises."

Anne sat up in dismay. Through her window she saw the light blinking
palely against the blue skies of dawn.

"Perhaps he has fallen asleep over his life-book," she said anxiously,
"or become so absorbed in it that he has forgotten the light."

Gilbert shook his head.

"That wouldn't be like Captain Jim. Anyway, I'm going down to see."

"Wait a minute and I'll go with you," exclaimed Anne. "Oh, yes, I
must--Little Jem will sleep for an hour yet, and I'll call Susan. You
may need a woman's help if Captain Jim is ill."

It was an exquisite morning, full of tints and sounds at once ripe and
delicate. The harbor was sparkling and dimpling like a girl; white
gulls were soaring over the dunes; beyond the bar was a shining,
wonderful sea. The long fields by the shore were dewy and fresh in
that first fine, purely-tinted light. The wind came dancing and
whistling up the channel to replace the beautiful silence with a music
more beautiful still. Had it not been for the baleful star on the
white tower that early walk would have been a delight to Anne and
Gilbert. But they went softly with fear.

Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the door and they
went in.

The old room was very quiet. On the table were the remnants of the
little evening feast. The lamp still burned on the corner stand. The
First Mate was asleep in a square of sunshine by the sofa.

Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped over the life-book,
open at the last page, lying on his breast. His eyes were closed and
o