on
the Brisport quay, "the cottage is our own, and come what may, we have
always that to fall back upon. If things should chance to turn out badly
over there, we have always a roof to cover us. There you will find me
until you send word to us to come."

"And that will be very soon, my lass," he answered cheerfully, with a
last embrace. "Good-bye, granny, good-bye." The ship was a mile and more
from the land before he lost sight of the figures of the straight slim
girl and her old companion, who stood watching and waving to him from
the end of the grey stone quay. It was with a sinking heart and a vague
feeling of impending disaster that he saw them at last as minute specks
in the distance, walking townward and disappearing amid the crowd who
lined the beach.

From Liverpool the old woman and her granddaughter received a letter
from John announcing that he was just starting in the barque St.
Lawrence, and six weeks afterwards a second longer epistle informed them
of his safe arrival at Quebec, and gave them his first impressions of
the country. After that a long unbroken silence set in. Week after week
and month after month passed by, and never a word came from across the
seas. A year went over their heads, and yet another, but no news of the
absentee. Sheridan and Moore were written to, and replied that though
John Huxford's letter had reached them, he had never presented himself,
and they had been forced to fill up the vacancy as best they could.
Still Mary and her grandmother hoped against hope, and looked out
for the letter-carrier every morning with such eagerness, that the
kind-hearted man would often make a detour rather than pass the two
pale anxious faces which peered at him from the cottage window. At last,
three years after the young foreman's disappearance, old granny died,
and Mary was left alone, a broken sorrowful woman, living as best she
might on a small annuity which had descended to her, and eating her
heart out as she brooded over the mystery which hung over the fate of
her lover.

Among the shrewd west-country neighbours there had long, however, ceased
to be any mystery in the matter. Huxford arrived safely in Canada--so
much was proved by his letter. Had he met with his end in any sudden
way during the journey between Quebec and Montreal, there must have
been some official inquiry, and his luggage would have sufficed to have
established his identity. Yet the Canadian police had been communicated