he was surprised at the sight of George Hamon
smoking in the doorway of the cottage.

"Why, George, I thought you were off fishing," he said.

"Why then?"

"Your boat's away." And Hamon was leaping down the zigzag before he had
finished, while Carre followed more slowly. But no amount of anxious
staring across empty waters will bring back a boat that is not there. The
boat was gone and Paul Martel with it, and neither was seen again in Sercq.

For many months Rachel Carre lived in instant fear of his unexpectedly
turning up again. But he never came, and in time her mind found rest. The
peace and aloofness of Belfontaine appealed to her, and at her father's
urgent desire she stayed on there, and gave herself wholly to the care of
the house and the training of her boy. The name of Martel, with its
unpleasant memories, was quietly dropped, and in time came to be almost
forgotten. The small boy grew up as Phil Carre, and knew no other name.

I am assured that he was a fine, sturdy little fellow, and that he took
after his grandfather in looks and disposition. And his grandfather and
Krok delighted in him, and fed his hungry little mind from their own
hard-won experiences, and taught him all their craft as he grew able for
it, so that few boys of his age could handle boat and nets and lines as he
could. And Philip the elder, being of an open mind through his early
travels, and believing that God was more like to help them that helped
themselves than otherwise, made him a fearless swimmer, whereby the boy
gained mighty enjoyment and sturdy health, and later on larger things
still.

But it was his mother who led him gently towards the higher things, and
opened the eyes of his understanding and the doors of his heart. She taught
him more than ever the schoolmaster could, and more than most boys of his
day knew. So that in time he came to see in the storms and calms, more than
simply bad times and good; and in the clear blue sky and starry dome, in
the magical unfoldings of the dawn and the matchless pageants of the
sunset, more than mere indications of the weather.

Yet, withal, he was a very boy, full of life and the joy of it, and in
their loving watchfulness over his development his mother and grandfather
lost sight almost of the darker times out of which he had come, and looked
only to that which he might in time come to be.

CHAPTER V

HOW CARETTE AND I WERE GIRL AND BOY TOGETHER

I suppose I could fill