d and reread the little bit of paper, and
folded it carefully, and put it away with the precious letter which
the boy's father had written on his dying-bed. Then he began to
gather up Noll's books, thinking to put them out of his sight, but
stopped before he had taken the third in his hand. Why hide them? Why
shut them up in darkness, as if some evil, dreaded memory were
connected with the sight of them? Had not everything about the boy and
his life been bright and pleasant to think of? He put the books back
in their places, saying to himself, "They shall stay where they are.
Hagar shall not move them, and I will have them before my eyes alway,
just as his dear hands left them? Why should I try to hide aught that
his blessed memory lingers around?"

So he left everything just as Noll's hands had placed them last, and
rose up from his chair, and went to his old familiar seat by the great
bookcase, where he had sat and pored over great volumes day after
day, and watched the boy at his studies. The portrait on the wall
looked down at him with its soft and tender eyes, and he thought, "Now
I may look at it without its reproaching me; for, dear heart, I have
begun to 'come up.' I have turned my eyes toward thy abode, and, God
helping me, I may some day hear thy own sweet voice. And though I may
never see the boy's face, and rejoice to look upon it as I do upon
thine, yet his pure memory lingers about everything that he loved and
touched, and his face can never be removed from my heart."

Calm and peaceful days passed, and the third week after the shipwreck
went by, and life in the stone house began to move on as it was wont
to do. Once more the red light from the library-window streamed out
into the night, but there was no Skipper Ben and his "Gull" for it to
guide. Not a sail had been seen near the Rock, and its inhabitants had
been shut out from the rest of mankind for three long weeks. That
which at first was only an inconvenience grew to be a serious matter
at last. The Culm folk, never very provident, exhausted their supply
of flour and meal, and had only fish to eat; and fish, with a little
salt, was not an extensive nor varied bill of fare.

In some way or another, Hagar discovered that the people had exhausted
all their stores, and through her it came to Trafford's ears.

"Nuffin but fish ter live on, an' not de greatest plenty o' dat,"
Hagar had said, standing beside Trafford's chair in the library.