isk was exceedingly great. Come, Julia, remember you are to be a
doctor's wife, and don't be a coward."

"Don't go!" she reiterated, "for my sake and your mother's. I am certain
some trouble will come of it. We shall be frightened to death; and this
woman is only a stranger to you. Oh, I cannot bear to let you go!"

I did not attempt to reason with her, for I knew of old that when Julia
was bilious and nervous she was quite deaf to reason. I only stroked the
hand that lay on my shoulder, and went on with my dinner as if my life
depended upon the speed with which I dispatched it.

"Uncle," she said, as my father came in with a small portmanteau in his
hand, "tell Martin he must not go. There is sure to be a storm
to-night."

"Pooh! pooh!" he answered. "I should be glad enough for Martin to stay
at home, but there's no help for it, I suppose. There will be no storm
at present, and they'll run across quickly. It will be the coming back
that will be difficult. You'll scarcely get home again to-night,
Martin."

"No," I said. "I'll stop at Gavey's, and come back in the Sark cutter if
it has begun to ply. If not, Tardif must bring me over in the morning."

"Don't go," persisted Julia, as I thrust myself into my rough
pilot-coat, and then bent down to kiss her cheek. Julia always presented
me her cheek, and my lips had never met hers yet. My mother was standing
by and looking tearful, but she did not say a word; she knew there was
no question about what I ought to do. Julia followed me to the door and
held me fast with both hands round my arm, sobbing out hysterically,
"Don't go!" Even when I had released myself and was running down the
drive, I could hear her still calling, "O Martin, don't go!"

I was glad to get out of hearing. I felt sorry for her, yet there was a
considerable amount of pleasure in being the object of so much tender
solicitude. I thought of her for a minute or two as I hurried along the
steep streets leading down to the quay. But the prospect before me
caught my eye. Opposite lay Sark, bathed in sunlight, and the sea
between was calm enough at present. A ride across, with a westerly
breeze filling the sails, and the boat dancing lightly over the waves,
would not be a bad exchange for a dull Sunday afternoon, with Julia at
the Sunday-school and my mother asleep. Besides, it was the path of duty
which was leading me across the quiet gray sea before me.

Tardif was waiting, with his sails set and oars