or ourselves; that was a point Julia was bent upon. A
suitable house had fallen vacant in one of the higher streets of St.
Peter-Port, which commanded a noble view of the sea and the surrounding
islands. We had taken it, though it was farther from the Grange and my
mother than I should have chosen my home to be. She and Julia were busy,
pleasantly busy, about the furnishing of it. Never had I seen my mother
look so happy, or so young. Even my father paid her a compliment or two,
which had the effect of bringing a pretty pink flush to her white
cheeks, and of making her sunken eyes shine. As to myself, I was quietly
happy, without a doubt. Julia was a good girl, everybody said that, and
Julia loved me devotedly. I was on the point of becoming master of a
house and owner of a considerable income; for Julia would not hear of
there being any marriage settlements which would secure to her the
property she was bringing to me. I found that making love, even to my
cousin, who was like a sister to me, was upon the whole a pleasurable
occupation. Every thing was going on smoothly.

That was till about the middle of March. I had been to church one Sunday
morning with these two women, both devoted to me, and centring all their
love and hopes in me, when, as we entered the house on our return, I
heard my father calling "Martin! Martin!" as loudly as he could from his
consulting-room. I answered the call instantly, and whom should I see
but a very old friend of mine, Tardif of the Havre Gosselin. He was
standing near the door, as if in too great a hurry to sit down. His
handsome but weather-beaten face betrayed great anxiety, and his shaggy
mustache rose and fell, as if the mouth below it was tremulously at
work. My father looked chagrined and irresolute.

"Here's a pretty piece of work, Martin," he said; "Tardif wants one of
us to go back with him to Sark, to see a woman who has fallen from the
cliffs and broken her arm, confound it!"

"For the sake of the good God, Dr. Martin," cried Tardif, excitedly, and
of course speaking in the Sark dialect, "I beg of you to come this
instant even. She has been lying in anguish since mid-day
yesterday--twenty-four hours now, sir. I started at dawn this morning,
but both wind and tide were against me, and I have been waiting here
some time. Be quick, doctor. Mon Dieu! if she should be dead!"

The poor fellow's voice faltered, and his eyes met mine imploringly. He
and I had been fast friends i