not know whatever I should do when it was all
gone. I do not know now."

Here was a capital opening for a question about her friends.

"You will be compelled to communicate with your family," I said. "You
have told me how poor you are; cannot you trust me about your friends?"

"I have no friends," she answered, sorrowfully. "If I had any, do you
suppose I should be here?"

"I am one," I said, "and Tardif is another."

"Ah, new friends," she replied; "but I mean real old friends who have
known you all your life, like your mother, Dr. Martin, or your cousin
Julia. I want somebody to go to who knows all about me, and say to them,
after telling them every thing, keeping nothing back at all, 'Have I
done right? What else ought I to have done?' No new friend could answer
questions like those."

Was there any reason I could bring forward to increase her confidence in
me? I thought there was, and her friendlessness and helplessness touched
me to the core of my heart. Yet it was with an indefinable reluctance
that I brought forward my argument.

"Miss Ollivier," I said, "I have no claim of old acquaintance or
friendship, yet it is possible I might answer those questions, if you
could prevail upon yourself to tell me the circumstances of your former
life. In a few weeks I shall be in a position to show you more
friendship than I can do now. I shall have a home of my own, and a wife
who will be your friend more fittingly, perhaps, than myself."

"I knew it," she answered, half shyly. "Tardif told me you were going to
marry your cousin Julia."

Just then we heard the fold-yard gate swing to behind some one who was
coming to the house.

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH.

ONE IN A THOUSAND.

I had altogether forgotten that Captain Carey's yacht was waiting for me
off the little bay below; and I sprang quickly to the door in the dread
that he had followed me.

It was an immense relief to see only Tardif's tall figure bending under
his creel and nets, and crossing the yard slowly. I hailed him and he
quickened his pace, his honest features lighting up at the sight of me.

"How do you find mam'zelle, doctor?" were his first eager words.

"All right," I said; "going on famously. Sark is enough to cure any one
and any thing of itself, Tardif. There is no air like it. I should not
mind being a little ill here myself."

"Captain Carey is impatient to be gone," he continued. "He sent word by
me that you might be visiting ev