y indifference was the reason that
formed his third and greatest interest in his work; this was his desire
to please Madame Le Maitre.

If he had never known and loved the lady of the sea, he thought that his
desire to please Madame Le Maitre would have been almost the same. She
exercised over him an inexplicable influence, and he would have felt
almost superstitious at being under this spell if he had not observed
that everyone who came much in contact with her, and who was able to
appreciate her, was ruled also, and that, not by any claim of authority
she put forth, but just because it seemed to happen so. She was more
unconscious of this influence than anyone. Those under her rule
comprised one or two of the better men of the island, many of the poor
women, the girls in her house, and O'Shea. With regard to himself, Caius
knew that her influence, if not augmented, was supplemented, by his
belief that in pleasing her he was making his best appeal to the favour
of the woman he loved.

He never from the first day forgot his love in his work. His business
was to do all that he could to serve Madame Le Maitre, whose heart was
in the healing of the people, but his business also was to find out the
answer to the riddle in which his own heart was bound up. The first step
in this, obviously, was to know more about Madame Le Maitre and O'Shea.
The lady he dared not question; the man he questioned with persistency
and with what art he could command.

It was one night, not a week after his advent, that he had so far come
to terms with O'Shea that he sat by the stove in the latter's house, and
did what he could to keep up conversation with little aid from his host.

O'Shea sat on one wooden chair, with his stockinged feet crossed upon
another, and his legs forming a bridge between. He was smoking, and in
the lamplight his smooth, queer face looked like a brown apple that had
begun to shrivel--just begun, for O'Shea was not old, and only a little
wrinkled.

His wife came often into the room, and stood looking with interest at
Caius. She was a fair woman, with a broad tranquil face and much light
hair that was brushed smoothly.

Caius talked of the weather, for the snow was falling. Then, after
awhile:

"By the way, O'Shea, _who_ is Madame Le Maitre?"

The other had not spoken for a long time; now he took his clay pipe out
of his mouth, and answered promptly:

"An angel from heaven."

"Ah, yes; that, of course."

Cai