hand.

Rast was safe. They brought him home to the Agency in triumph, and
placed him in a chair before the fire. They all wanted to touch him, in
order to feel that he was really there, to be glad over him, to make
much of him; they all talked together. Anne came to his side with tender
affection. He was pale and moved. Instinctively and naturally as a child
turns to its mother he turned to her, and, before them all, laid his
head down upon her shoulder, and clung to her without speaking. The
elders drew away a little; the boys stopped their clamor. Only Tita kept
her place by the youth's side, and frowned darkly on the others.

Then they broke into a group again. Rast recovered himself, Dr. Gaston
began to make puns, and Pere Michaux and Miss Lois revived the subject
of Father Marquette as a safe ladder by which they could all come down
to common life again. A visit to the kitchen was made, and a grand
repast, dinner and supper combined, was proposed and carried into effect
by Miss Lois, Pere Michaux, and the Irish soldier's wife, the three boys
acting as volunteers. Even Dr. Gaston found his way to the distant
sanctuary through the series of empty rooms that preceded it, and
proffering his services, was set to toasting bread--a duty he
accomplished by attentively burning one side of every slice, and
forgetting the other, so that there was a wide latitude of choice, and
all tastes were suited. With his wig pushed back, and his cheery face
scarlet from the heat, he presented a fine contrast to Pere Michaux,
who, quietly and deliberately as usual, was seasoning a stew with
scientific care, while Miss Lois, beating eggs, harried the Irish
soldier's wife until she ran to and fro, at her wits' end.

Tita kept guard in the sitting-room, where Anne had been decisively
ordered to remain and entertain Rast; the child sat in her corner,
watching them, her eyes narrowed under their partly closed lids. Rast
had now recovered his usual spirits, and talked gayly; Anne did not say
much, but leaned back in her chair listening, thankfully quiet and
happy. The evening was radiant with contentment; it was midnight when
they separated. The gale was then as wild as ever; but who cared now
whether the old house shook?

Rast was safe.

At the end of the following day at last the wind ceased: twenty-two
wrecks were counted in the Straits alone, with many lives lost. The dead
sailors were washed ashore on the island beaches and down the c