in which he had seen Sheila in these rare and
magical colors seemed to become more and more remote:

An angel in passing looked downward and smiled,
And carried to heaven the fame of the child;
And then what the waves and the sky and the sun
And the tremulous breath of the hills had begun,
Required but one touch. To finish the whole,
God loved her and gave her a beautiful soul.

And what had he done with this rare treasure entrusted to him? His
companions, jesting among themselves, had said that he had committed
a murder: in his own heart there was something at this moment of a
murderer's remorse.

Johnny Eyre uttered a short cry. Lavender looked ahead and saw that
some black object was disappearing among the waves.

"What a fright I got!" Eyre said with a laugh. "I never saw the fellow
come near, and he came up just below the bowsprit. He came heeling
over as quiet as a mouse. I say, Lavender, I think we might as well
cut it now: my eyes are quite bewildered with the light on the water.
I couldn't make out a kraken if it was coming across our bows."

"Don't be in a hurry, Johnny. We'll put her out a bit, and then let
her drift back. I want to tell you a story."

"Oh, all right," he said; and so they put her head round, and soon she
was lying over before the breeze, and slowly drawing away from those
outlines of the coast which showed them where Tarbert harbor cut into
the land. And then once more they let her drift, and young Eyre took
a nip of whisky and settled himself so as to hear Lavender's story,
whatever it might be.

"You knew I was married?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you ever wonder why my wife did not come here?"

"Why should I wonder? Plenty of fellows have to spend half the
year apart from their wives: the only thing in your case I couldn't
understand was the necessity for your doing it. For you know that's
all nonsense about your want of funds."

"It isn't nonsense, Johnny. But now, if you like, I will tell you why
my wife has never come here."

Then he told the story, out there under the stars, with no thought of
interruption, for there was a world of moving water around them. It
was the first time he had let any one into his confidence, and perhaps
the darkness aided his revelations; but at any rate he went over all
the old time, until it seemed to his companion that he was talking to
himself, so aimless and desultory were his pathetic reminiscences. He
called her Sheila, though Eyre