lined with sunken reefs. The wind
had almost gone, but a little breeze still caught us from the north of
the fog-bank. Without a word I took the oars again, while Tardif devoted
himself to the sails and the helm.

"A mile nearer home," he said, "and I could row my boat as easily in the
dark as you could ride your horse along a lane."

My face was westward now, and I kept my eye upon the fog-bank creeping
stealthily after us. I thought of my mother and Julia, and the fright
they would be in. Moreover a fog like this was pretty often succeeded by
a squall, especially at this season; and when a westerly gale blew up
from the Atlantic in the month of March, no one could foretell when it
would cease. I had been weather-bound in Sark, when I was a boy, for
three weeks at one time, when our provisions ran short, and it was
almost impossible to buy a loaf of bread. I could not help laughing at
the recollection, but I kept an anxious lookout toward the west. Three
weeks' imprisonment in Sark now would be a bore.

But the fog remained almost stationary in the front of Guernsey, and the
round red eyeball of the sun glared after us as we ran nearer and nearer
to Sark. The tide was with us, and carried us on it buoyantly. We
anchored at the fisherman's landing-place below the cliff of the Havre
Gosselin, and I climbed readily up the rough ladder which leads to the
path. Tardif made his boat secure, and followed me; he passed me, and
strode on up the steep track to the summit of the cliff, as if impatient
to reach his home. It was then that I gave my first serious thought to
the woman who had met with the accident.

"Tardif, who is this person that is hurt?" I asked, "and whereabout did
she fall?"

"She fell down yonder," he answered, with an odd quaver in his voice, as
he pointed to a rough and rather high portion of the cliff running
inland; "the stones rolled from under her feet, so," he added, crushing
down a quantity of the loose gravel with his foot, "and she slipped. She
lay on the shingle underneath for two hours before I found her; two
hours, Dr. Martin!"

"That was bad," I said, for the good fellow's voice failed him--"very
bad. A fall like that might have killed her."

We went on, he carrying his oars, and I my little portmanteau. I heard
Tardif muttering. "Killed her!" in a tone of terror; but his face
brightened a little when we reached the gate of the farm-yard. He laid
down the oars noiselessly upon the narrow