d being young and eager, the thought came upon me
for the first time that this thing was really possible; and with the
thought came the longing, and a sense which I had only felt dimly
before, and never let speak plain to me, as it were. I suppose every
young man feels the desire to go somewhere else than the place where he
has always abided. The world may be small and wretched, as some tell
him, or great and golden, according to the speech of others; he believes
neither one nor the other, he must see it with his own eyes. So this
grew upon me, and I brooded over it, till my life was full of voices
calling, and hands pointing across the sea, to the place which is
Somewhere Else. I talked with Father L'Homme-Dieu, and he bade me go,
and gave me his blessing; he had no doubt it was my pleasure, and might
be my duty, in the way of making all that might be made of my life. I
talked with Abby; she grew pale, and had but one word, "Your father!"
Something in her tone spoke loud to my heart, and there came into my
mind a thought that I spoke out without waiting for it to cool.

"Won't you marry my father, Abby?"

Abby's hands fell in her lap, and she turned so white that I was
frightened; still, I went on. "You love him better than any one else,
except me." (She put her hand on her heart, I remember, Melody, and kept
it there while I talked; she made no other sign.)

"And you can care for him ten times better than I could, you know that,
Abby, dear; and--and--I know Mere-Marie would be pleased."

I looked in her face, and, young and thoughtless as I was, I saw that
there which made me turn away and look out of the window. She did not
speak at once; but presently said in her own voice, or only a little
changed, "Don't speak like that, Jakey dear! You know I'll care for your
father all I can, without that;" and so put me quietly aside, and talked
about Yvon, and how good Father L'Homme-Dieu had been to me.

But I, being a lad that liked my own way when it did not seem a wrong
one (and not only then, perhaps, my dear; not only then!), could not let
my idea go so easily. It seemed to me a fine thing, and one that would
bring happiness to one, at least; and I questioned whether the other
would mind it much, being used to Abby all his life, and a manner of
cousin to her, and she my mother's first friend when she came to the
village, and her best friend always. I was very young, Melody, and I
spoke to my father about it; that sam