What are they?"

"What we very seldom see here. They are the lights Indians use in
spearing fish."

"Indians!"

Lucia's voice was faint, and she clung to Maurice's arm. Surprised to
feel her trembling, he said, "I intended a night or two ago to tell you
to look out for them. Surely, you are not afraid of an Indian?"

"I am a little," she answered, trying to overcome her terror. "But where
do these come from?"

"You know the saw-mill at the other end of the town, beyond Mr. Bayne's?
There are three or four Indians at work there, and they go out sometimes
at night to fish."

The two lights, which had been but just visible when they first came
out, flitting here and there through the darkness, had now approached
much nearer, so that the canoes could be plainly distinguished. They
were quite small, and each contained two men, one sitting down in the
stern, a dark undefined shadow, scarcely seen except for the occasional
flash of his paddle in the light; the other standing at the prow in the
full glare of the fire which burned there, and lit up his wild
half-naked figure and the long fish-spear in his hand. As the canoe
moved from place to place, they could see the spear dart swiftly into
the water, and the sparkle of wet scales as the fish was brought up and
thrown into the boat.

Lucia's terror had at first overpowered her curiosity, and as it
subsided, she was, for a minute or two, too much interested in the novel
sight to renew her questions. As for Maurice, he was, as he had said, in
no haste to speak.

It was pleasant to have her for a little while all to himself, pleasant
to feel her hand resting more closely on his arm as if he could protect
her, even from her own foolish fear, and all was the sweeter, because it
might be for the last time. At last, however, she said again,

"But tell me what you were going to. What has happened?"

"One thing that has happened," he replied, rousing himself, "is that I
have heard more family history than I knew before. Do you care to hear
that?"

"Yes; I should like to if you don't mind."

"Well, you know that my father and mother came out here from England
many years ago, directly after their marriage. This marriage, it
appears, was disapproved of by my mother's family--was a runaway match,
indeed, and never forgiven even to the time of her death."

"Oh, Maurice! and were her father and mother alive?"

"Her father was, and still is. She was an only daughter, with bu