nto
harbour. Ellenor dashed the tears from her eyes and smiled down at
the men in the boat as they fastened it to a hook in the breakwater
and climbed up beside her. Her father was her friend, her refuge,
her comfort; and something of his influence over her seemed to
belong to the other man, his mate. Perrin Corbet was tall and
angular, without the slightest pretention to good looks, but with a
fund of good nature and humour in his grey eyes, and when he smiled
back at Ellenor a shy tenderness glorified his plain face into
something far beyond mere beauty of feature.

The men and Ellenor crossed the sandy cove and climbed the winding
cliff path which led directly past the _Grand Plough_. Jean and
Perrin lingered to watch the splendid action of Le Mierre, as, once
more, he led the line of animals: but Ellenor walked on and never
even glanced to see if Blaisette were still in the field. She did
not wait for the men and kept a little ahead of them as she mounted
the cliff to the moorland above. Her head was bent, her arms hung
down listlessly.

Suddenly, round a bend in the path, a number of children appeared in
evident high glee. They stopped when they reached the men and
explained, all speaking at once, that they were going to see _La
Grand' Querrue_. Perrin, who loved children, listened patiently to
the shrill little voices and patted the innocent faces.

"But we can't go on yet!" exclaimed the eldest of the group, "we are
waiting for little Marie, she stopped to tie up her shoe. Ah, there
she is!"

Perrin looked up and saw that Ellenor had lifted little Marie in her
arms and was bringing her to the other children. The golden haired
baby nestled her head against the girl's breast: and her chubby arm
was thrown round Ellenor's neck. The two made a sweet picture. The
girl's sombre face was softened by contrast with the lovely little
head pressed confidingly against her. The eternal wonder of mother
and child is seen whenever a woman has a baby in her arms, and
though Perrin could not have explained the thrill that swept over
him, he knew in his heart that the sight of the two together moved
him to an intense longing, an intense reverence. In his nature was
none of the coarse fibre which so often marks the men whose lives
are all action, danger and privation. When Ellenor kissed little
Marie and put her down with a gentleness unusual to herself,
Perrin's thoughts rang of what she would be as a mother. His heart
thro