er.
Already it was spring; this calm was the first token of its coming. It
was the 5th of March; in a few weeks the weather would soften, the
grass grow green, and Anethe would see the first flowers in this
strange country, so far from her home where she had left father and
mother, kith and kin, for love of Ivan. The delicious days of summer
at hand would transform the work of the toiling fishermen to pleasure,
and all things would bloom and smile about the poor people on the
lonely rock! Alas, it was not to be.

At ten o'clock they went to bed. It was cold and "lonesome" up-stairs,
so Maren put some chairs by the side of the lounge, laid a mattress
upon it, and made up a bed for Karen in the kitchen, where she
presently fell asleep. Maren and Anethe slept in the next room. So
safe they felt themselves, they did not pull down a curtain, nor even
try to fasten the house-door. They went to their rest in absolute
security and perfect trust. It was the first still night of the new
year; a young moon stole softly down toward the west, a gentle wind
breathed through the quiet dark, and the waves whispered gently about
the island, helping to lull those innocent souls to yet more peaceful
slumber. Ah, where were the gales of March that might have plowed that
tranquil sea to foam, and cut off the fatal path of Louis Wagner to
that happy home! But nature seemed to pause and wait for him. I
remember looking abroad over the waves that night and rejoicing over
"the first calm night of the year!" It was so still, so bright! The
hope of all the light and beauty a few weeks would bring forth stirred
me to sudden joy. There should be spring again after the long
winter-weariness.

"Can trouble live in April days,
Or sadness in the summer moons?"

I thought, as I watched the clear sky, grown less hard than it had
been for weeks, and sparkling with stars. But before another sunset it
seemed to me that beauty had fled out of the world, and that goodness,
innocence, mercy, gentleness, were a mere mockery of empty words.

Here let us leave the poor women, asleep on the lonely rock, with no
help near them in heaven or upon earth, and follow the fishermen to
Portsmouth, where they arrived about four o'clock that afternoon. One
of the first men whom they saw as they neared the town was Louis
Wagner; to him they threw the rope from the schooner, and he helped
draw her in to the wharf. Greetings passed between them; he spoke to
Mat