ey had landed. To get them
ashore, and carried to the spot he had selected as being the most
sheltered and suitable for his purpose, was no easy matter; but with
time, and the united efforts of the whole party, every obstacle was
gradually overcome. The building, although a small one, was slow in
attaining completion, and for weeks the sound of Claude's hammer and saw
disturbed the primeval quiet of the little northern island. The women
lent their help in every possible way; and watched with admiration the
skilful manner in which Claude provided against every emergency which
might befall the little dwelling; none gave a sign of the secret and
cherished hope of all their hearts, that they might never need to
complete it, or to occupy it when completed.

Thus July and August passed; and towards the end of the latter month the
"castle," as Marie had gaily designated it, was at last finished. They
transferred themselves and their belongings to its shelter, and, as it
happened, only just in time. The weather, as usual about that time of
year, suddenly changed, and a fierce gale swept across the island. For
three days the rain fell in torrents, and the mad waves rolled higher
and higher up the beach, till the spot where their summer shelter had
stood was completely covered. The nights, too, became cold and dreary;
and the dismal shrieking of the wind through the trees, and the hoarse
bellowing of the sea among the crags and caves, had a terrifying effect
that made it hard for even the brave spirits of these high-born
Frenchwomen to preserve their calm and hopeful bearing.

With the shortening days and autumn winds a sadness crept over the
little colony, and would not be shaken off. Its influence was, perhaps,
most felt by Marie, though her bright vivaciousness never failed her
when the others were present. The lovers could not be wholly unhappy
while they had each other. Their future was full of uncertainty, and the
present of difficulties and dangers, but at least they were together,
and separation had been the bitterest of their trials. With Marie it was
necessarily otherwise. She could not but feel herself alone, in a sense
which was unknown to the other two; and it became her habit, in the
mellow September days, to wander by herself along the shore, often
sitting for hours, her hands clasped on her knees, gazing in vain at the
distant, empty horizon. She had one companion--a young fox which Claude
had caught and tamed fo