ne morning, two or three days later, Mrs. Pember, lying awake
waiting for the light to grow brighter that she might begin her day,
heard a slight sound outside, of a certain incisiveness out of
proportion to its volume. With an idleness that visited her only at
early day-break, she wondered what it was. It was repeated, and this
time, moved by an insistent curiosity blended with the recognition of
its probable cause, she rose and looked out of the window which was
close to the head of her bed. A little pier was a stone's throw from the
house on that side, at which were moored several boats belonging to the
fishermen about. It was as she thought; a stooping figure, dim and hazy
in the morning fog, which blurred the nearest outlines and veiled the
more distant, was untying one of the boats, and had slipped the oars
into the rowlocks.

"Going fishing early," she said to herself. "I wonder which of 'em it
is. They are all alike in this light."

Then she stood and looked out upon the morning world. It would soon be
sunrise. Meanwhile, the earth was silent, save for the soft rippling of
the untired waves that scarcely rose and fell in this sheltered harbor;
the land had been at rest through the short night, but they had climbed
and lapsed again steadily through its hours; the paling stars would soon
have faded into the haze. The expectation of the creature waited for the
manifestation.

Softly the boat floated away from its moorings. It seemed propelled
without effort, so quietly it slipped through the water. In the bottom
lay the sail and the nets, a shadowy mass; the boat itself was little
more than a shadow, as it glided on into the thicker fog which received
and enveloped it, as into an unknown vague future which concealed and
yet held promise and welcome.

Mrs. Pember glanced at the clock. It was very early, but to go back to
bed was hardly worth while. The sun was already beginning to glint
through the fog. She dressed, and, passing softly the door of the room
where Mellony slept,--rather fitfully of late,--began to make the fire.

The morning broadened and blazed into the day, and the whole town was
making ready for its breakfast. Mellony was later than usual,--her
mother did not hear her moving about, even; but she was unwilling to
disturb her; she would wait a while longer before calling her. At last,
however, the conviction of the immorality of late rising could no longer
be ignored, and she turned the knob of