hing of its forbidden side;
for it is notable that wisdom comes not alone from loving good things,
but from having seen evil as well as good. Besides Joan was not a woman
to go singly to her life's end.

There was scarcely a man on Isle of Days and in the parish of Ste.
Eunice, on the mainland, but would gladly have taken to wife the
daughter of Tarboe the smuggler, and it is likely that the cure of
either parish would not have advised against it.

Joan had had the taste of the lawless, and now she knew, as she sat and
listened to Bissonnette's music, that she also could dance for joy,
in the hope of a taste of the lawful. With this money, if it were got,
there could be another life--in Quebec. She could not forbear laughing
now as she remembered that first day she had seen Orvay Lafarge, and
she said to Bissonnette: "Loce, do you mind the keg in the water-pail?"
Bissonnette paused on an out-pull, and threw back his head with a
soundless laugh, then played the concertina into contortions.

"That Lafarge! H'm! He is very polite; but pshaw, it is no use that, in
whisky-running! To beat a great man, a man must be great. Tarboe Noir
can lead M'sieu' Lafarge all like that!"

It seemed as if he were pulling the nose of the concertina. Tarboe began
tracing a kind of maze with his fingers on the deck, his eyes rolling
outward like an endless puzzle. But presently he turned sharp on Joan.

"How many times have you met him?" he asked. "Oh, six or seven--eight or
nine, perhaps."

Her father stared. "Eight or nine? By the holy! Is it like that? Where
have you seen him?"

"Twice at our home, as you know; two or three times at dances at the
Belle Chatelaine, and the rest when we were at Quebec in May. He is
amusing, M'sieu' Lafarge."

"Yes, two of a kind," remarked Tarboe drily; and then he told his
schemes to Joan, letting Bissonnette hang up the "The Demoiselle with
the Scarlet Hose," and begin "The Coming of the Gay Cavalier." She
entered into his plans with spirit, and together they speculated what
bay it might be, of the many on the coast of Labrador.

They spent two days longer waiting, and then at dawn a merchantman
came sauntering up to anchor. She signalled to the Ninety-Nine. In
five minutes Tarboe was climbing up the side of the Free-and-Easy, and
presently was in Gobal's cabin, with a glass of wine in his hand.

"What kept you, Gobal?" he asked. "You're ten days late, at least."

"Storm and sickness--broken m