unset in the window of the
fishing-houses and heard the summons of the wind, something broke
loose in her soul and overwhelmed her, like a wave of the sea. She
must go at once--at once--at once. Not a moment could she wait.

She was dressed for dinner, but with tingling fingers she threw off
her costly gown and put on her dark travelling suit again. She left
her hair as it was and knotted a crimson scarf about her head. She
would slip away quietly to the boathouse, get Davy to launch the
little sailboat for her--and then for a fleet skim over the harbour
before that glorious wind! She hoped not to be seen, but Mrs. Cameron
met her in the hall.

"Nora!" she said in astonishment.

"Oh, I must go, Aunty! I must go!" the girl cried feverishly. She was
afraid Mrs. Cameron would try to prevent her going, and all at once
she knew that she could not bear that.

"Must go? Where? Dinner is almost ready, and--"

"Oh, I don't want any dinner. I'm going home--I will sail over."

"My dear child, don't be foolish. It's too late to go over the
harbour tonight. They won't be expecting you. Wait until the morning."

"No--oh, you don't understand. I must go--I must! My mother is over
there."

Something in the girl's last sentence or the tone in which it was
uttered brought a look of pain to Mrs. Cameron's face. But she made no
further attempt to dissuade her.

"Well, if you must. But you cannot go alone--no, Nora, I cannot allow
it. The wind is too high and it is too late for you to go over by
yourself. Clark Bryant will take you."

Nora would have protested but she knew it would be in vain. She
submitted somewhat sullenly and walked down to the shore in silence.
Clark Bryant strode beside her, humouring her mood. He was a tall,
stout man, with an ugly, clever, sarcastic face. He was as clever as
he looked, and was one of the younger millionaires whom John Cameron
drew around him in the development of his huge financial schemes.
Bryant was in love with Nora. This was why the Camerons had asked him
to join their August house party at Dalveigh, and why he had accepted.
It had occurred to Nora that this was the case, but as yet she had
never troubled to think the situation over seriously.

She liked Clark Bryant well enough, but just at the moment he was in
the way. She did not want to take him over to Racicot--just why she
could not have explained. There was in her no snobbish shame of her
humble home. But he did not belong th