ed between heaps of hard-packed snow. There were the bright tufts
of cocks' tails and the glossy backs of hens brown and yellow; there
were white ducks, and ducks that were green and black, and great gray
geese of slender make that were evidently descended from the wild goose
of the region. On the snow-heaps pigeons were standing--flitting and
constantly alighting--with all the soft dove-colours in their dress. In
front of the large feathered party was a young woman who stood, basin in
hand, scattering corn, now on one side, now on another, with fitful
caprice. She made game of the work of feeding them, coquettishly
pretending to throw the boon where she did not throw it, laughing the
while and talking to the birds, as if she and they led the same life and
talked the same language. Caius could not hear what she said, but he
felt assured that the birds could understand.

For some few minutes Caius looked at this scene; he did not know how
long he looked; his heart within him was face to face with a pain that
was quite new in his life, and was so great that he could not at first
understand it, but only felt that in comparison all smaller issues of
life faded and became as nothing.

Beyond the youthful figure of the corn-giver Caius saw another woman. It
was the wife of O'Shea, and in a moment her steadfast, quiet face looked
up into his, and he knew that she saw him and did not tell of his
presence; but, as her eyes looked long and mutely into his, it seemed to
him that this silent woman understood something of the pain he felt.
Then, very quietly, he turned his horse and rode back by the path that
he had come.

The woman he had seen was the wife of the sea-captain Le Maitre. He said
it to himself as if to be assured that the self within him had not in
some way died, but could still speak and understand. He knew that he had
seen the wife of this man, because the old cloak and hood, which he knew
so well, had only been cast off, and were still hanging to the skirts
below the girlish waist, and the white cap, too, had been thrown aside
upon the snow--he had seen it. As for the girl herself, he had loved her
so long that it seemed strange to him that he had never known until now
how much he loved her. Her face had been his one thought, his one
standard of womanly beauty, for so many years that he was amazed to find
that he had never known before how beautiful she was. A moment since and
he had seen the March sunshine upon