is a very handsome man, Martin."

"Tardif is a fine fellow," I admitted.

"I shall be very sorry for him to be taken in again," continued Emma;
"nobody knows who that young person may be; it looks odd on the face of
it. Are you in a hurry? Well, good-by. Give our best love to dear Julia.
We are busy at work on a wedding-present for her; but you must not tell
her that, you know."

I went on in a hot rage, shapeless and wordless, but smouldering like a
fire within me. The cool, green lane, deep between hedge-rows, the banks
of which were gemmed with primroses, had no effect upon me just then.
Tardif marry Olivia! That was an absurd, preposterous notion indeed. It
required all my knowledge of the influence of dress on the average human
mind, to convince myself that Olivia, in her coarse green serge dress,
had impressed the people of Sark with the notion that she would be no
unsuitable mate for their rough, though good and handsome fisherman.

Was it possible that they thought her stupid? Reserved and silent she
might be, as she wished to remain unmolested and concealed; but not
stupid! That any one should dream so wildly as to think of Olivia
marrying Tardif, was the utmost folly I could imagine.

I had half an hour to wait in the little harbor, its great cliffs rising
all about me, with only a tunnel bored through them to form an entrance
to the green island within. My rage had partly fumed itself away before
the yacht came in sight.

CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH.

OVERHEAD IN LOVE.

Awfully fast the time sped away. It was the second week in March I
passed in Sark; the second week in May came upon me as if borne by a
whirlwind. It was only a month to the day so long fixed upon for our
marriage. My mother began to fidget about my going over to London to pay
my farewell bachelor visit to Jack Senior, and to fit myself out with
wedding toggery. Julia's was going on fast to completion. Our trip to
Switzerland was distinctly planned out, almost from day to day. Go I
must to London; order my wedding-suit I must.

But first there could be no harm in running over to Sark to see Olivia
once more. As soon as I was married I would tell Julia all about her.
But if either arm or ankle went wrong for want of attention, I should
never forgive myself.

"When shall we have another run together, Captain Carey?" I asked.

"Any day you like, my boy," he answered; "your days of liberty are
growing few and short now, eh? I've n