her feelings come forth; she was the only watcher in the
old house, every other eye was closed in sleep. These moments alone at
night, when she allowed herself to weep and think, were like breathing
times; then her sorrows came forth. According to her nature, she did not
fear or brood upon her own future so much as upon the future of the
children; the love in her heart made it seem to her a bitter fate to be
forced to leave them and the island. The prospect of the long journey,
the city school, the harsh aunt, did not dishearten her; they were but
parts of her duty, the duty of her life. It was after midnight; still
she sat there. The old shutters, which had been rattling for some time,
broke their fastenings, and came violently against the panes with a
sound like the report of a pistol.

"The wind is rising," she thought, vaguely, as she rose to fasten them,
opening one of the windows for the purpose. In rushed the blast, blowing
out the candle, driving books and papers across the floor, and whirling
the girl's long loosened hair over her face and round her arms like the
coils of a boa-constrictor. Blinded, breathless, she hastily let down
the sash again, and peered through the small wrinkled panes. A few stars
were visible between the light clouds which drove rapidly from north to
south in long regular lines like bars, giving a singular appearance to
the sky, which the girl recognized at once, and in the recognition came
back to present life. "The equinoctial," she said to herself; "and one
of the worst. Where can the _Huron_ be? Has she had time to reach the
shelter of the islands?"

The _Huron_ was the steamer which had carried Rast away at twilight. She
was a good boat and stanch. But Anne knew that craft as stanch had been
wrecked and driven ashore during these fierce autumn gales which sweep
over the chain of lakes suddenly, and strew their coasts with fragments
of vessels, and steamers also, from the head of Superior to the foot of
Ontario. If there was more sea-room, vessels might escape; if there were
better harbors, steamers might seek port; in a gale, an ocean captain
has twenty chances for his vessel where the lake captain has one. Anne
stood with her face pressed against the window for a long time; the
force of the wind increased. She took her candle and went across to a
side room whose windows commanded the western pass: she hoped that she
might see the lights of the steamer coming back, seeking the shelt