line of the shore, but in every
window a light twinkled, like a fallen star.

Helen sat in the side of the tiny ship as near the prow as might be; her
uncle sat at the tiller and managed the sails. They were a silent pair,
the one in a suit of tweeds with a slouch hat, the other in a muslin
gown with a veil of black lace wrapped about her head.

The sailing of the boat was an art which Helen had not exerted herself
to understand; she only knew that every now and then there was a minute
of bluster and excitement when her uncle shouted to her, and she was
obliged to cower while the beam and the sail swung over her head with a
sound of fluttering wind. When she was allowed to take her seat after
this little hurly-burly the two lighthouses upon the lake and all the
lights upon the shore had performed a mysterious dance; they all lay in
different places and in different relation to one another. She had not
learned to know the different lights. When dusk came she was lost to her
own knowledge. She only knew that the sweet air blew upon her face and
that she trusted her uncle.

The moonless night closed in. Now and then, as they passed a friendly
craft, evening greetings were spoken across the dark space. By the time
they got to the place for which they were bound they were floating
almost alone upon the black water.

Johns descended into a small boat and secured the sailing-boat to the
buoy which belonged to the house whither he was going, or rather, he
thought that he secured it.

Helen heard the plash of his oars until he landed. The shore was but
twenty yards away, but she could hardly see it. The sail hung limp,
wrinkled, and motionless. She began to sing, and there alone in the
darkness she fell in love with her own voice, and sang on and on,
thinking only of the music.

Her uncle was long in coming; she became conscious of movement in the
water, like the swell of waves outside rolling into the cove. She heard
the sound of swaying among all the trees on the shore. She looked up and
saw that the stars of one half the sky were obscured, that the darkness
was rolling onward toward those that were still shining.

She stopped her own singing, and the song of the waters beneath her prow
was curiously like the familiar sound when the boat was in motion. She
strained her eyes, but could not see how far she was from the near
shore. She looked on the other side and it seemed to her that the lights
on the home-ward side of