too clever for
me, Ellenor, and caught me in a fine trap, I can make out the
reason, the only reason, why you will be my wife. It is to save Le
Mierre from disgrace."

"Yes," she replied, "it is; and there is yet one more reason. I
can't live to Les Casquets any longer. I'm too unhappy. Mother is
always telling me what people say about me; no other tune do I hear
all day long."

"Well, it's quite plain you don't care a _double_ for me; but,
still, I can take care of you, give you a home and thus stop the
wagging of all the tongues in the parish. But, Ellenor, there is one
thing I must speak about. I am willing to know you don't love me;
willing to know you've given your heart to another man, and him a
scoundrel. But, I couldn't stand it if you had meetings with him
when you will be my wife, the daughter of my dear old mother. I'd
kill you, I believe. God forgive me, if such a thing happened."

"You needn't be afraid," she said in a dreary, colourless voice,
"since now I am always getting out of his way. There is left a
little pride in me yet. I can't bring such disgrace on my father.
But every day I cry because I can't see him."

"Well, I am satisfied! After all we know what each other means. And
now, when will it be, this wedding of ours?"

He tried to speak gaily, poor Perrin, but it was sad work. He
succeeded at last in persuading her to agree to be married on
Christmas Day: and then, fearful that she would change her mind, he
said he would take her home at once, for it was getting late.

As they descended the hill and crossed the bay, Perrin pointed out
the gleaming of a light on Lihou, an islet within a stone's throw of
Guernsey.

"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the
iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear,
and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!"

"Does he beat her?"

"So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre."

"It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin,
why didn't God let me--_make_ me, love you instead?"

Was this sad gentle voice in reality Ellenor's? Was this nestling
hand hers? Did it really creep through his arm?

"My girl, we must not dictate to God about what He does! I confess I
don't understand half He lets happen to us. But I couldn't question
it."

"Poor Perrin!" she went on softly, "to care for me, of all the girls
in the two parishes."

"I wouldn't change you for the Queen on her th