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 .^..X.'SJ^
 
 IN A SILYEE SEA 
 
 BY 
 
 B. L. FARJEON, 
 
 AUTHOB 0¥ "great POBTEB SQUAEE : A MYSTEET," " THE SACRED 
 NUGGET," "CHBISTMAS ANGEL," " GBIF," ETC. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 HontJon : 
 WAED AND DOWKEY, 
 
 12, YOEK STEEET, COVEKT GAEDEN. 
 
 1886. 
 
 [All rights reserved.]
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED BT GILBEKT AND MIVINGTON, 
 ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
 
 ^A3 
 /= ^ ^ ^-'' 
 
 ::^ 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The Legend of the Silver Isle. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Part I.— The Sin 1 
 
 Part II. — The Expiation . . . .25 
 
 THE STORY. 
 
 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ Mauvain takes Refuge in the Silver Isle . 58 
 
 -S. CHAPTER 11. 
 
 c>^ To the Silver Isle comes an Evangeline 
 "^ WHOSE Lips are mute . . . .73 
 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 To THE Silver Isle comes a new Evangeline 
 
 WHOSE Lips are animate . . . .81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Eanf, the Deformed 96
 
 iv Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Eeturx of the AVaxderers . . . 105 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 The Story of Margaret Sylvester . .117 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 Margaret axd Clarice 125 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Margaret continues her Story . . .150 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Betrayal 1G9 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Margaret tightens the Chains which bind 
 
 her to Slavery 191 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Welcome to the Silver Isle . . . < 203 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Margaret's Diary, written in the Silver 
 
 Isle 215 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The Conclusion of Margaret's Diary . . 235 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 Joseph gives Evangeline a Proof of his 
 
 Love . 255
 
 IN A SILYEE SEA. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The Legend of the Silver Isle. 
 
 PART I. — the sin. 
 
 This precious stone, set in a silver sea, 
 was an island, from which a bird might fly 
 to England's shore and back within the 
 limits of the shortest day. A priceless 
 jewel, graced with loveliest form and 
 colour ; on one side rock-bound, plashed 
 day and night by snowy spray and foam, 
 and, on the other, lying asleep in a bed of 
 velvet sand, over which the salt waves 
 idled and murmured sweetest dreams. It 
 was Nature's holiday ground. The valleys 
 were summer-warm long after summer 
 had passed away, and as one lifted one's 
 head to the beautiful sky, the sun's bright 
 rays shone upon the face, while the crisp 
 fresh air, with a taste of mountain snow 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 in its breatli, kissed brow and lip. The 
 seasons were in sweet rivalry. Sometimes 
 even in December the eye would light 
 upon a wonder ; green valleys " with 
 daisies powdered over," and the winds 
 would be fragrant with violets, as though 
 Spring's wondrous birth were near ; while 
 on the north side of the Silver Isle, where 
 rock and peak were nearest to heaven, lay 
 a basin of eternal snow, its white bosom 
 gleaming in the sun's eye from year's end 
 to year's end. 
 
 On the breast of the loftiest range in 
 the Silver Isle, seven thousand feet above 
 the level of the sea, rested this basin of 
 eternal snow, soft, and still, and treache- 
 rous. The road to it lay over sharp rocks 
 and dangerous surprises formed by chasm 
 and precipice, into many of which a ray 
 of sunlight had never wandered. The 
 islanders avoided it in terror. On moon- 
 light nights they would point fearsomely 
 to the shadows gliding over the white 
 surfaces, never for a moment still, ever 
 changing with the changing aspect of the 
 moon as the clouds passed across its face ; 
 and, walking in the plains and valleys, 
 would cross themselves as a protection
 
 hi a Silver Sea, 3 
 
 against the evil spirits that haunted the 
 spot and held unholy revel there. From 
 their youngest days they were warned 
 never to attempt to reach the snow-land 
 that looked so fair and pure. " Sin is 
 there," they were told, " and Death. Its 
 bosom is stained with blood. Who ven- 
 tures there is lost " On stormy nights, 
 when the heavens were black, their imagi- 
 nations conjured up dread shadows moving 
 on the heights, and, sitting by their fire- 
 sides, parents would relate to their children 
 strange stories of the mysterious world 
 that touched the sky, and the little ones 
 would tremble, and hide their faces in their 
 frocks at the sound of thunder pealing 
 over the mountain tops. Then, mayhap, 
 a lull in the storm would occur, and the 
 mothers would say, — 
 
 '' Be not frightened, children. The 
 storm has ceased. Evil flies from, the 
 presence of the White Maiden. She is on 
 the mountain." 
 
 These stories, handed down from gene- 
 ration to generation, lost nothing of the 
 fantastic in their transmission. They 
 grew like the spreading of circles on the 
 surface of a peaceful lake, and gathered 
 B 2
 
 4 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 weird terrors from the spirit world wliicli 
 surrounds the real. The islanders believed 
 in the supernatural ; in their primitive life 
 the invisible was a power from which rare 
 streams of fancy flowed. Spirits lived in 
 the mountains, and haunted their woods 
 and streams; and Nature's voice, heard in 
 wind or breeze, in the hushed harmony of 
 forest life or the sweet plashing of the 
 mountain rill, in drowsy lullaby or the 
 fierce contention of the elements, was 
 pregnant with significant meaning. Apart 
 from these poetical currents the Silver Isle 
 was rich in themes of passion and suffering, 
 and the legend connected with the basin 
 of snow had its origin in a seed sown by 
 human hands. 
 
 How many years ago no man' could say, 
 for the deed lived only in the memory, and 
 was not witnessed by the oldest grey-beard 
 among them, an unforeseen and fearful 
 crime was committed in the isle. In that 
 little world were two men who, by force of 
 natural gifts, had grown to be like kings 
 in the land. The influence they wielded 
 over the community was unbounded. 
 Famous were they for their strength and 
 beauty, for their knowledge of husbandry.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 5 
 
 for tlie love they bore each other. They 
 were the idols of the island, and gave the 
 word when to sow, when to reap, when 
 to gather in the harvest. Questions of 
 moment were submitted to them for deci- 
 sion. All men yielded to them, followed 
 them, obeyed them. Their word was law, 
 aud their power was maintained, not by 
 the strong hand, but by gentleness and 
 wisdom. Their house of pine wood was 
 set on the crown of a hill, above the 
 valleys in which the warm winds lingered. 
 It seemed right that they should live apart 
 from their fellows. They were the eagles 
 of the isle, bright-eyed, strong-limbed, and 
 long enduring. In hunting, shooting, and 
 feats of endurance they were the masters 
 of all. The land around their house had 
 been cleared and made arable by their own 
 strong hands, and in a community of able 
 tillers they were renowned for their skill 
 with the plough. 
 
 Celibacy was not uncommon in the 
 Silver Isle ; and for that reason, and 
 because the moral stature of the brothers 
 was so far above that of their fellows, it 
 was not a matter for wonder that they had 
 not found their mates among women.
 
 6 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 For their sakes many remained single, 
 unblessed and uncomplaining, for tlie 
 brothers trifled with no maiden's affections. 
 But it is not for men to lay down a law 
 for themselves in this respect; nature is 
 not to be denied, and when the brothers 
 had passed their fourth decade, the spirit 
 of love touched their hearts. It proved 
 their destruction. They were both drawn 
 to a lovely girl of eighteen summers, an 
 orphan, who exercised an almost magic 
 power over the islanders. As the brothers 
 were the heroes, so Evangeline was the 
 heroine of the Silver Isle. Universally 
 beloved, she brought happiness to the 
 young and comfort to the old. She was 
 not aware that the irresistible influence 
 of her sweet nature, no less than that of 
 her beauty, made these strong men weaker 
 in her presence than the weakest reed. 
 Her soul was the soul of a chaste and 
 modest maiden, and her conduct was inno- 
 cent and pure. Truly her heart was 
 bound to the elder of the brothers, and 
 the time came when the lovers stood hand 
 in hand, bathed in the light of the sunrise 
 of love. 
 
 *' Rejoice with me, my brother," said
 
 /' 
 
 In a Silver Sea, 7 
 
 tlie chosen one. '' Blessed as my life lias 
 been, it is now to be doubly blessed. 
 Evangeline is mine." 
 
 '' Thine ! " exclaimed the younger 
 brother, with a haggard look. 
 
 For him, in that fatal moment, the 
 world grew dark. But one bright star 
 remained — the guileless maid who raised 
 her face to his to receive a brother's 
 kiss. All other light was blotted out. 
 
 He kissed her with lips as cold as snow, 
 and she stood between the brothers with 
 unwavering faith in both. 
 
 " You are my brother now," said Evan- 
 geline, gazing with innocent trust into the 
 face of the younger man. 
 
 '' Aye," he answered in a hoarse voice. 
 
 " If aught befall me," said the happy 
 lover, '^thou wilt protect Evangeline." 
 
 '* To the death." 
 
 This was a sacred custom in the isle. 
 One brother dead, the other remained to 
 comfort the bereaved heart — with a hus- 
 band's love, if it were so agreed. 
 
 When it became known that the elder 
 brother had chosen Evangeline for his 
 mate, the hearts of the islanders were 
 filled with gladness. '* The race of heroes
 
 8 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 will not now die out," they said. Eetes 
 were lield to celebrate the approaching 
 union of one of the heroes of the Silver 
 Isle with the loveliest maiden who had 
 ever graced it. It was a time of universal 
 rejoicing. The wedding-day arrived — a 
 fair and sunny day. Smiles were on every 
 lip ; the houses and the church were bright 
 with flowers. In the morning the bride- 
 groom's brother presented himself at the 
 house of the bride to conduct her to the 
 church. He gave her the bridal flowers, 
 and she placed them in her bosom and in 
 her hair. Her waist was engirdled with 
 white roses. Her heart was a garden of 
 sweet thoughts. They walked to the 
 church, followed by the islanders, who 
 made this day a general holiday. By 
 right the bridegroom should have been in 
 the portal of the sacred house to receive 
 his bride, but he was absent. The sun- 
 dial marked the appointed time, and the 
 man who should have been the first to 
 arrive did not make his appearance. It 
 was strange, for he had never been a 
 laggard. His brother was questioned. 
 
 ''What detains him?" 
 
 " I know not."
 
 In a Silver Sea. g 
 
 ^' Saw jou Mm this morning ? " 
 
 *' No. I saw him last at midnight. 
 He said lie wished to be alone, to commune 
 with his heart and with God. Such would 
 have been my desire, had his happy lot 
 been mine. We kissed and parted." 
 
 *'He was well?" 
 
 ''He was well." 
 
 " Whither went he ? " 
 
 " I cannot say." 
 
 " In what direction ? " 
 
 '' In the direction of the snow moun- 
 tain." 
 
 At the words '' Such would have been 
 my desire, had his happy lot been mine," 
 Evangeline suddenly turned her eyes 
 towards him. Some unaccustomed note 
 in his voice had strangely moved her ; but 
 only on her ears had it fallen with signifi- 
 cance. She did not speak. 
 
 No other man in the Silver Isle had 
 information to give. Many on the pre- 
 vious night had seen the brothers depart 
 from the valleys with their arms around 
 each other, embracing. They walked 
 towards the heights in loving converse, as 
 they had often done in the byegone time. 
 
 The day waned, and still no bridegroom.
 
 lo In a Silver Sea. 
 
 The islanders stood about in clusters, 
 endeavouring to account for his absence. 
 They sent scouts in search of him, who 
 returned unaccompanied and unsatisfied ; 
 no trace of him could be discovered. 
 The islanders questioned Evangeline. 
 She did not hear their first words. Her 
 eyes wore an inward look ; she was 
 searching the past for new meanings to 
 words, gestures, glances, which, at the 
 time they were given, seemed capable only 
 of honest construction. She was as one 
 in a troubled dream. 
 
 *' Evangeline, listen to us." 
 
 " Ah, pardon me ! What do you wish 
 to say to me ? " 
 
 " You know no cause why your bride- 
 groom should not be here ? " 
 
 " I know of none. God may ; I do not." 
 
 '' All was well between you ? " 
 
 ** He never spoke ungentle word to 
 me, nor I to him. There was nothing 
 concealed between us, nothing to be con- 
 cealed. I knew his heart ; he knew mine. 
 Dear friends, my trouble is great." 
 
 They turned to the brother again. 
 
 " Last night, when you parted from him, 
 he said he would be here to-day ? "
 
 In a Silver Sea. 1 1 
 
 "Assuredly. To be united with this 
 sweet flower who was to bring heaven into 
 his life." He might have added, " And 
 hell into mine ! " but he kept his thought 
 close. 
 
 Yet it seemed as though Evangeline had 
 some consciousness of it. She looked into 
 his face for a moment. He returned her 
 look with a wild and tender smile. She 
 drew him aside, so that no other ears could 
 hear what passed between them. 
 
 " Will he come ? " 
 
 " I would — from the grave ! " 
 
 He peered around into the air, expecting 
 a presence that was not among them. 
 Again she looked into his face. Again he 
 returned her look with a wild and tender 
 smile. 
 
 " Have jou a secret ? " she asked, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Yes. A heart secret." 
 
 "Can I read it?" . 
 
 He replied with a sigh that was like a 
 groan. He held her hand in his. Hers 
 was cold as ice ; his, hot as flame. 
 
 The day drew its slow and mournful 
 length. A funereal gloom fell upon the 
 isle. The islanders made many efforts
 
 [2 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 to induce Evangeline to accompany 
 tliem home; slie would not yield to their 
 entreaties. " We will stay yet a little 
 while," she said, and " yet a little while," 
 again and again. Evening came ; the 
 western skies were stained with blood. 
 It was useless to stay longer. Evange- 
 line's friends made a last effort to lead her 
 away, but she still refused to quit the 
 church. 
 
 "I must stay here," she said. 
 
 "Alone? Dear child, be persuaded; 
 come with us ! " 
 
 *'T must stay. I shall not be alone." 
 She spoke now to the brother. "You will 
 not leave me ? " 
 
 " I will never leave you ! " 
 
 Fading flowers lay about her feet. Her 
 friends still lingered, but she entreated 
 them to go. 
 
 " Am I not in safe hands ? Here stands 
 my brother, who will protect me from 
 harm. Go, dear friends ; God tells me it 
 will be for the best. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, Evangeline. Dear child 
 of our hearts, good night ! We shall watch 
 and pray for you. All will be well to- 
 morrow."
 
 I7i a Stlve)^ Sea. 13 
 
 They kissed and embraced her, then 
 slowly left the place, with many a fond and 
 lingering look behind. When night fell, 
 only EvangeHne and the younger brother 
 were in the church. For a long time there 
 was silence. No sound was heard within 
 those sacred walls until the man heard a 
 voice cry, — 
 
 " Cain ! " 
 
 He replied with a shudder, — 
 
 " Who calls ? " 
 
 Again he heard the voice, — 
 
 *' Where is thy brother ? " 
 
 " I know not. Am I my brother's 
 keeper ? " 
 
 In those famihar words, uttered in a 
 tone of suppressed agony, upon the girl's 
 affrighted soul flashed the awful truth, of 
 which, indeed, she had already a vague 
 foreshadowing. She heard not the 
 questions, for they proceeded from no 
 human tongue. It was the man's con- 
 science that had spoken in the dread 
 stillness of the night. 
 
 Only for a few moments did Evangeline's 
 heart faint within her. Her hand slipped 
 from the man's grasp, and she sank to the 
 ground in a passion of silent grief and
 
 14 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 horror. Then she bit her lips until the 
 blood came, and rose and stood close beside 
 him. 
 
 " Evangeline," he whispered, " have 
 you aught else to say ? I am ready to 
 answer." 
 
 He had a pitiless desire to be questioned. 
 The torture of his secret was too great for 
 him to bear. 
 
 " I have said nothing," she replied. " I 
 have not spoken." 
 
 '' Whose voice, then, did I hear ? " 
 
 " If you heard any," she said, " it was 
 God's." 
 
 '* So be it. Evangeline, are you very 
 unhappy ? " 
 
 " Most unhappy ! " 
 
 '' You must be tired. It has been a 
 weary day." 
 
 " A day never, never to be forgotten in 
 this world or the next ! I did not come 
 prepared. The bridal flowers you brought 
 me are still in my bosom. What mockery ! 
 What mockery ! " 
 
 "You are not afraid of me ? " 
 
 " No, I am not afraid of you." 
 
 '' Why did you elect to remain here with 
 me?"
 
 In a Silver Sea, 15 
 
 " To hear your confession." 
 
 " Listen to it. I love you ! I love 
 yoii ! " 
 
 '' Ah, me ! Is love a poison, then ? " 
 
 " I love you ! No man ever loved 
 woman as I love you ! JSTo woman can 
 ever again be loved as you are loved. 
 Time and the worlds contain for me but 
 one hope — Evangeline ! " 
 
 All the passion of which man's nature is 
 capable was expressed in this utterance. 
 It was as though the man had said, '' My 
 salvation is in your hands. My crime was 
 yours. You drove me to it." In that 
 sense she accepted it. 
 
 '' Come," she said, " and let me see of 
 what I have been guilty. If there is blood 
 upon my soul I must face it." 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 " I would know the truth. I would see 
 the truth. Come, Cain, and show me my 
 crime ! " 
 
 He accepted with a ghastly smile the 
 name by which she called him. Had 
 he not already answered to it ? They 
 walked into the open. There was a glim- 
 mering light in the sky; the moon had 
 not yet risen. He gazed into Evangeline's
 
 1 6 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 face, and its pallid beauty pierced his 
 heart like a sharp knife. 
 
 *' Does my misery hurt you ? " she 
 asked. " I am sorry. You must already 
 have suffered much." 
 
 The hapless girl's voice expressed such 
 utter desolation that a terrible yearning 
 took possession of him to console her. 
 He held out his arms entreatingly to her. 
 
 " Evangeline," he cried, '' trust me with 
 your future. Find comfort here." 
 
 A gasp of most exquisite suffering 
 escaped her. With her open palm upon his 
 breast, she kept him from embracing her. 
 
 ''Teach me first to forget," she said; 
 and then she asked plaintively, " Why 
 have you loved me ? " 
 
 '' Why are we glad when we see the 
 sun?" 
 
 " There are so many better than I, 
 more worthy of you, closer to you in 
 wisdom and strength. I am neither wise 
 nor strong ; I am but a poor unfortunate 
 girl, born to destroy." 
 
 " Born to bless, to save ! In all this 
 world, there moves not a being so fair, so 
 beautiful." 
 
 " And believing thus, you loved me."
 
 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 17 
 
 "Accept it so." 
 
 '' If," she said solemnly, " my beauty 
 lias ensnared you, you must not be con- 
 demned for it. I am truly most guilty. 
 Give me your tablets." 
 
 He handed them to her. She wrote a 
 few words upon them, and entering the 
 church, laid them on the altar, and after- 
 wards rejoined him. 
 
 " You know that your brother loved 
 you with a most perfect love." 
 
 " So loved I him, until—" 
 
 " Until," she said, with a wild sob, '' I 
 stepped between you, and led you to 
 destruction. Ah ! how he worshipped 
 you ! You were the embodiment of a 
 divine nobility and strength by whose 
 example men were led nearer to their 
 Creator. All that was base and sordid 
 withered at your touch. You were his 
 hero, his angel, upon whose lightest word 
 he would have staked a thousand lives, 
 had they been his to lose. He taught me 
 to look up to you as I do to God. You 
 were to guide us in all things. ' If any 
 crisis in your life occurs,' your brother 
 said to me, ' and I am not near, place your 
 hand in my brother's hand. He will 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 1 8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 shelter and protect you, as I would do. 
 Have full faith in him, in his bravery, in 
 his heroism. What is right to be done 
 he will do, at whatever risk, for your sake 
 and mine.' I have treasured his words. 
 A crisis in my unhappy life has come, and 
 your brother is not here. I place my 
 hand in yours. I have full faith in you. 
 You will do what is right to be done." 
 '' Demand it of me. I will do it." 
 '' Take me, step by step, over the 
 ground you and your brother walked last 
 night. Do not fear. I shall not faint by 
 the way." 
 
 A strong man's strength seemed to have 
 entered the body of the weak and hapless 
 girl. There was no faltering in her steps 
 as, hand in hand, they walked together 
 towards the mountain of snow. The un- 
 frequented route they traversed was 
 marked by falling leaves from the bridal 
 flowers in her bosom and hair, and now 
 and then she plucked a rose from her 
 girdle and scattered its leaves upon the 
 road. Onward they walked, steadily, un- 
 relentingly. Only once did they look 
 back. They were on the heights, and 
 paused, prompted by Evangeline.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 19 
 
 ^' It was from this point," she said, 
 " our clear friends below saw jou and your 
 brother clearly, with your arms round 
 each other's neck, embracing. It was a 
 brighter night than this, but if they are 
 looking this way they can distinguish our 
 forms, and they will know by our quiet 
 attitude that we are outwardly in harmony 
 with each other." 
 
 She gazed wistfully upon the houses of 
 the islanders which dotted the plains and 
 valleys beneath. The cot in which her 
 happy maidenhood had been passed was 
 within view, and there were lights in the 
 window of her own little room, to woo 
 her back to peace and home. She recog- 
 nized the meaning of the tender sign, and 
 answered the pathetic entreaty expressed 
 in the lights. 
 
 " JS^ever again ! Oh, never, never 
 again ! " and then she breathed the word 
 " Farewell ! " 
 
 They resumed their journey over the 
 stony ranges, upward and ever upward. 
 Side by side they walked, treading in 
 dead footsteps. The lower world grew 
 less, and the lights in the isle so faint 
 that they could now scarcely be distin- 
 c 2
 
 20 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 guislied. The unknown world was before 
 them. 
 
 " Your brother and you," said Evan- 
 gehne, " did not walk this road in silence 
 last night ? '' 
 
 "We spoke of many things, of many 
 persons, chiefly of you." 
 
 " Of none other ? " 
 
 '' I have said, of many." 
 
 " You had a mother who is remembered 
 with tenderness and reverence. Did she 
 find no place in your converse ? " 
 
 " You are torturing my soul with your 
 questions ! " 
 
 " Are you pleading to me for pity, 
 because you fear to face the truth ? You 
 have not, then, your brother's nature. Be 
 silent if you choose, and leave me to find 
 my way alone." 
 
 He spoke now in a set, stern voice : 
 '^ We spoke of our mother, of the lessons 
 we learned at her knees, of her goodness, 
 of the grand purity of her life. We recalled 
 all the tender reminiscences of the past. 
 The stream we used to bathe in ; our wood- 
 land rambles ; our dreams ; our fancies ; 
 our vow to live our lives together, to share 
 each other's joys, each other's woes — a vow
 
 In a Silver Sea, 2 1 
 
 repeated when our judgments ripened and 
 we were men. We dallied with sweet 
 memories. Hold ! " he cried suddenly. 
 " Take not another step forward ! It is 
 death ! On the edge of this precipice we 
 kissed, and parted." 
 
 " At whose desire ? " 
 
 " At his. He wished to be alone." 
 
 The crescent of the moon rose over the 
 snow mountain, and Evangeline saw that 
 they were standing upon the brink of a 
 narrow precipice, which shelved sheer down 
 into an awful chasm, formed by the split- 
 ting of the rocks on either side. No man's 
 eye could pierce the gloom, and no man's 
 foot could tread the perilous descent. 
 
 "And then?" whispered Evangeline. 
 " And then ? Proceed. There is more to 
 tell." 
 
 " I walked slowly away. Had my will 
 been in my own control, I should have fled 
 in haste, but a demon held me in his power. 
 My feet were as heavy as lead ; I could 
 scarcely drag them on. Exhausted, I was 
 forced to stop and rest; and then the 
 demon whispered poisoned words, and 
 conjured up visions of happiness which 
 maddened me. I strove to thrust them
 
 2 2 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 from me, and, rising, would have continued 
 my path to the valley, but an unseen force 
 impelled me in the direction of my brother. 
 My feet were free now ; I hastened quickly 
 back. I found him here, lying on the 
 ground, kissing a love-lock you had given 
 him. The madness of jealousy, suddenly 
 aroused to action, fell upon my soul and 
 blinded me ! The air was thick with phan- 
 toms ! Voices cried to me, ' Here lies he 
 who bars your way to heavenly happiness ! 
 What deed is too terrible for dear love's 
 sake ? ' I raised a mass of rock, and hurled 
 it forward. It thundered down the abyss. 
 When sight was restored to me, T saw not 
 my brother ! " 
 
 The girl inclined her body towards him, 
 and gasped in horror, — 
 
 " Not a sound ? Not a cry ? Gone, 
 without a sign ? " 
 
 He scorned to lie. 
 
 " A wail rose from the abyss. Your 
 name — Evangeline ! " 
 
 " His last word ! His last thought ! 
 Oh, Grod be praised that he was mine in 
 death, as in life ! " 
 
 She knelt swiftly upon the brink of the 
 precipice. He held her tight so that she
 
 In a Silver Sea. 23 
 
 sliould not fall over. The moon's light 
 had grown stronger now, and she could 
 see more clearly. Her eyes searched the 
 ground with feverish eagerness, and found 
 what they sought — stains of blood upon 
 the rocks, the life-blood of her lover lying 
 dead in the black depths below ! She 
 pressed her lips to them, and kissed them 
 again and again with sobs and cries of love, 
 and presently, when her paroxysm was 
 over, she rose, and with a sudden and 
 violent effort, twisted herself from the 
 grasp of the man w^ho held her. The move- 
 ment was so unexpected that he had no 
 power to prevent it, else it were an easy 
 task for him to have borne the light, slender 
 form to a place of safety. 
 
 '' Stand Avhere you are ! " she cried. 
 " Move but a hair's breadth towards me, 
 and I fling myself into the abyss ! " 
 
 They were separated by more than an 
 arm's length, and he dared not stir. The 
 girl's voice convinced him that her life 
 hung upon his slightest movement. Firm 
 and still as the rocks around them he stood, 
 with his dark eyes fixed upon Evangeline ; 
 and she, like a white spectre in the light 
 of the moon, faced him with steadfast look.
 
 24 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 '^ Have you more to say ? " she asked. 
 " I have told you all. I have darkened 
 your life ; but in my deep, undying love, 
 there is still a hope for you and for me ! " 
 *' What would you have of me ? " 
 " The redemption of your pledge." 
 ''Am I, then, pledged to you ? " 
 " It is a law of the isle. In my brother's 
 life you were his ; now you are mine. I 
 have made you so by my crime ! I claim 
 you ! » 
 
 " It is true," she murmured. " I am 
 his, or yours. But if I were dead — do 
 not stir ! There is danger in it ! If I 
 were dead — " 
 
 " I should follow you to the other land." 
 " Who, then, would claim me — you, or 
 your brother ? " Slowly she unwound the 
 girdle of roses round her waist, and 
 dropped them into the abyss. " There is 
 but one hope of salvation for you — to live, 
 when I am gone, and endeavour to expiate 
 the crime which has blasted the happiness 
 of three lives. If you do not this, my 
 hate shall follow you through the life 
 beyond the grave, and, with my hate, his 
 who lies below awaiting me ! I have no 
 feeling but sorrow for you now; I pity
 
 hi a Silver Sea, 25 
 
 you from my heart. May God pardon 
 you, as I do ! But before you meet us in 
 tlie hereafter, you must wash the blood- 
 stains from your soul ! I charge you to 
 live and perform this work of repentance, 
 for my sake, whom yoa have destroyed, 
 for your brother's, whom you have slain. 
 This is my bridal night — here, my bridal 
 couch ! Farewell! " 
 
 She allowed herself to fall backwards 
 into the abyss, and the man stood alone 
 upon the brink ! 
 
 PAKT II. THE EXPIATION. 
 
 At sunrise the following morning the 
 islanders went to the church to seek 
 Evangeline. It was already known that 
 she had not passed the night in her home. 
 In the church they found the tablets left 
 by Evangeline upon the altar, and written 
 on them these words, — 
 
 " None but I am guilty. The sin is 
 mine, and mine only, and I go to atone 
 for it. Be merciful to me, as Grod will be ! 
 If you can think of me with tenderness, I
 
 26 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 shall be glad. I sliall know, for my spirit 
 will live for ever in this dear isle. 
 
 *' Evangeline." 
 
 The sin was hers ! What sin ? Evan- 
 geline, the pure, the spotless maid, the 
 child of their hearts, gone from among 
 them with a sin upon her soul ! They 
 would have scorned themselves had they 
 for a single moment allowed the belief to 
 linger in their minds. 
 
 Whither had she gone ? The last that 
 was seen of her was when she was stand- 
 ing on the heights the previous night. 
 Her lover's brother was with her, and it 
 was observed that they were at peace with 
 one another. Their attitudes proclaimed 
 it. 
 
 Her spirit would live for ever in this 
 dear isle ! Was she, then, dead ? They 
 dared not give utterance to the thought. 
 But they mourned for her as for one lost 
 to them. 
 
 " She has gone from us," they said, 
 " our sweet Evangeline, in the flower of 
 her youth ! " 
 
 Old men and women wept as they would 
 have done at the death of a beloved 
 daughter, and the younger ones went
 
 In a Silver Sea. 27 
 
 about their duties oppressed with a heavy 
 weight of sadness. They had lost more 
 than a friend : they had lost a child, a 
 sister, in whom their brightest hopes were 
 centred. Every household felt the be- 
 reavement. Truly their hearts went out 
 to the hapless Evangeline. 
 
 But was she really dead ? If so, they 
 must find her body, and bury it in the 
 sweetest spot in their beautiful isle, where 
 flowers would bloom and birds would sing 
 above her grave. The performance of this 
 last sad office was a sacred duty. 
 
 By the aid of the bridal flowers which 
 were scattered on the road they tracked 
 Evangeline up the heights. Their search 
 was vain — they discovered nothing. Be- 
 yond a certain point all traces were lost, 
 and nought remained to direct them 
 farther. They returned to the plains in 
 sad perplexity. Every flower they found 
 was treasured, and distributed among 
 Evangeline's dearest friends. For long, 
 long afterwards the faded leaves were 
 shown by the old people to their grand- 
 children, and Evangeline's story told, with 
 tearful eyes and in tones of tenderness. 
 
 Later on, wrath was mingled with
 
 28 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 sadness. A guilty deed had been perpe- 
 trated — a fatal mystery was in their midst, 
 and the clue was in the hands of those 
 who held aloof from them. Where was 
 the bridegroom who had brought desola- 
 tion and death to Evangeline ? Where 
 the brother, to whom, but a few hours 
 since, they had entrusted the unfortunate 
 girl? 
 
 At the end of a fortnight he suddenly 
 appeared among them. The news spread 
 from one end of the Silver Isle to the 
 other, and the islanders hastened to meet 
 him. They gazed upon him with wonder. 
 He had grown twenty years older in less 
 than that number of days. His hair and 
 beard were gray ; his eyes were wild with 
 inward suffering ; his cheeks were fur- 
 rowed with deep lines ; and the corners of 
 his lips were drawn in. He looked like 
 one whose mind and body had received a 
 shock from which it was impossible to 
 recover. 
 
 The islanders deemed him crazed, for 
 when they approached him, he shrank 
 from them, and gazed at them, now 
 vacantly as he would have gazed at 
 strangers, now fiercely as he would have
 
 In a Silver Sea, 29 
 
 gazed at enemies. They held consultation 
 among themselves, and decided that it was 
 necessary they should ask him certain 
 questions, and that he should answer them. 
 It might be that he was the only human 
 being in whose power it was to give them 
 information of the fate of Evangeline and 
 her lover. 
 
 He strode past the houses in silence, 
 and the islanders confronted and ques- 
 tioned him. He shook them off* savagely, 
 and took no notice of their words. He 
 had come to the plains with a purpose in 
 his mind, and he walked straight to the 
 house of the priest. 
 
 " Land, and cattle, and grain, are 
 mine," he said to the priest, without pre- 
 liminary. '' Sit you down, and take 
 reckoning of them from my lips." 
 
 The priest obeyed him, as in the past 
 all had done, and noted every particular 
 furnished him by the unhappy man, who 
 then in simple words dictated a deed of 
 gift of all his property, to be disposed of 
 in the service of the poor and of God. 
 Even in the Silver Isle there were men 
 less fortunate than their fellows. 
 
 ''I come to you," he said gloomily to
 
 2,0 In a Silver^ Sea. 
 
 the priest, "because I know you to be a 
 just mau. I dispossess myself of all 
 worldly wealth. Dispose of it in such a 
 manner as may bring happiness and com- 
 fort to some who are deserving." 
 
 " I will hold it," said the priest gently, 
 " in trust for you. In a little while, when 
 your mind is calmer, you will resume your 
 place among men, chastened by the grief 
 which afflicts you." 
 
 " I have lost my place, and can never 
 regain it, shall never strive to regain it. 
 You have known me from childhood, and 
 have never known me to waver. I shall 
 not waver now by a hair's breadth " — he 
 shuddered as the words escaped his lips, 
 for they had been spoken by Evangeline 
 when they stood together by the abyss 
 which was now her grave — "from the 
 resolution I have formed. I have sworn a 
 solemn oath never, after I quit these 
 plains, to visit them again, and never 
 again to speak to mortal man. To break 
 this oath would further imperil what is 
 already imperilled — my soul ! My busi- 
 ness with mankind is at an end, and the 
 words I speak to you this day are irre- 
 vocable. I deemed it right to come once
 
 In a Silver S 
 
 ea. 
 
 more among you, and make this disposi- 
 tion of my wealth. It is done, and I 
 stand naked before heaven. Look upon 
 me as a dead man, and waste no thought 
 upon me." 
 
 He turned to go, but the priest with 
 gentleness detained him. 
 
 "My son," he said, raising his hands, 
 " let me bless you ! " 
 
 " God forbid," cried the man, " that I 
 should be so base as to bend my head ! 
 Priest, I am not worthy of a blessing ; nor 
 will man's prayers avail me. "What remains 
 for me to do rests only with myself." 
 
 Thus he would have departed without 
 another word, but was not permitted. 
 The chief men in the isle had formed 
 themselves into a tribunal, and they 
 demanded that he should appear before 
 them. For a moment he debated whether 
 he should obey the order ; assuredly it 
 depended upon himself, for it was scarcely 
 likely that violence would be offered him 
 if he refused ; but he attended without 
 resistance, and stood before the chiefs 
 of the Silver Isle, erect as of old, with 
 inscrutable eyes and haughty demeanour. 
 They were assembled on a platform built
 
 32 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 in the centre of an open space of ground, 
 witliin wliicli, at stated times of the year, 
 athletic games were indulged in by the 
 youth of the isle. Around the platform 
 were gathered at least a couple of hundred 
 of the islanders, men and women. 
 
 *' Have you constituted yourselves my 
 judges?" asked the brother ; "and if so, 
 for what am I to be judged ? " 
 
 " We are your friends," said the oldest 
 man there, "as we have ever been, and 
 we desire to soften, not to harden. We 
 know your iron will, and how indomitable 
 you are in your resolves. But no man is 
 infallible and immaculate. Human judg- 
 ment, under the influence of passion, is 
 but a will-o'-the-wisp, leading us too often 
 astray in matters of great moment ; and 
 if, suffering as you are suffering — for 
 it is plain to all of us that your soul 
 has been wrought — you have resolved 
 to depart without a word of explanation 
 regarding the events which have thrown 
 our isle into mourning, I ask you in the 
 name of justice to pause and reflect. You 
 and your brother were ever just. You 
 lived among us, honoured and revered. 
 We submitted ourselves to you in matters
 
 In a Silver Sea. '^'i) 
 
 of life and death, and jour will was law. 
 We look now for justice at your hands." 
 
 '' How shall I render it ? " 
 
 " Bj satisfying our reasonable demands. 
 Evangeline was our daughter, and her 
 honour is ours." 
 
 '^ She is pure and stainless." 
 
 " Who dare believe otherwise ? Our 
 belief in her purity comes not only from 
 our hearts ; it is in our conscience — a fixed 
 faith — as is our faith in God. But we 
 are also bound to her by a feeling more 
 selfishly human than our belief in a Here- 
 after and in the greatness of the Supreme. 
 Look around upon the women who have 
 followed you with eyes of love and 
 devotion as the embodiment of what is 
 noblest and best in our erring natures. 
 Your name was ever upon our lijos ; you 
 were held up as an example. Shall you 
 now, by an act which reason cannot justify, 
 destroy the heroic standard you have 
 created and set up in the isle ? You will 
 see how closely it touches us, whose aim 
 it is to live honest lives. You will shake 
 our faith in human justice and manly 
 honour if you depart in silence from 
 amongst us. Evangeline, an orphan, was 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 I^i ct Silver Sea. 
 
 left to our care ; she was our daughter, our 
 sister, who grew to womanhood in our 
 midst with a heart as pure as the heart of 
 a lily. She drew us nearer to heaven by 
 her sweetness. There beats not a heart 
 in the isle that is not in mourning for 
 Evangeline. We seek knowledge of her, 
 and you alone can give it. If, as many 
 suspect, there is between you and her a 
 secret which may not be divulged, we do 
 not press you to divulge it. We stand 
 only within our rights." 
 
 " Demand them." 
 
 " Where is Evaugeline ? " 
 
 *' She is dead ! " 
 
 Prepared as they were for it, the answer 
 came upon them with the force of a new 
 grief. Tears streamed down their faces, 
 and sobs burst from many a bosom. 
 Among them all the brother alone stood 
 outwardly unmoved. 
 
 *' Where is your brother ? " they pre- 
 sently asked. 
 
 " He is dead." 
 
 This news also shook them, and it was 
 many moments before they asked, — 
 
 " Lived he on the morning he was to be 
 united to Evangeline ? "
 
 In a Silver Sea, 35 
 
 "He died,'* was the reply, '' before we 
 met together in the church." 
 
 '* And Evangeline knew it not — had no 
 forewarning of it ? " 
 
 '' She knew it not. She had no fore- 
 warning of it. Think of her as she was on 
 that fatal morning, radiant and beautiful, 
 animated by life's sweetest promise, and 
 ask yourselves whether it were possible she 
 could have seen the cloud that was hanging 
 over her." 
 
 They derived a sad satisfaction from the 
 knowledge that Evangeline's lover had 
 not been false to her. Their faith in him 
 was restored; he had played no base 
 part. 
 
 "We sought Evangeline," said the 
 spokesman of the tribunal, " and could 
 not find her. We feared that she was 
 dead, and desired to give her Christian 
 burial." 
 
 " It is impossible. She died for love, 
 and cast herself from the heights into an 
 unfathomable abyss. Her body is lost. 
 Only her spirit remains." 
 
 "On the altar of the church we found 
 these tablets. They are yours. Knew 
 you what she wrote on them ? " 
 D 2
 
 36 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 'a did not know." 
 
 They gave them into his hands, and he 
 read Evangeline's last words to the 
 islanders, and, as he read, his forced calm- 
 ness forsook him. In a voice shaken by 
 emotion, he said, — 
 
 " She accused herself falsely. It was 
 the only false action of her life. ISTo sin 
 lies at her door. Be sure of that. I speak 
 with certainty of knowledge, and shall not, 
 dare not say more. There is a secret 
 between me and her which may not be 
 divulged. My presence here to-day is due 
 to my resolve to rid myself of all worldly 
 possessions, so that I may prepare my soul 
 to meet its Maker — to meet Evangeline's 
 soul in the world beyond. I do not ask 
 you to waste a gentle thought upon me : 
 you can render me but one service — the 
 service of forgetfulness. Blot me out 
 from your memories from this day hence- 
 forth, for no man or woman in the isle 
 shall ever again hear my voice — shall ever 
 again stand face to face with me in 
 friendly intercourse. Farewell for ever ! " 
 
 With head sunk upon his breast, as 
 though ashamed to meet the sunlight that 
 shone upon the land, he descended the
 
 In a Silver Sea. 2>7 
 
 platform and moved slowly away. They 
 gave him ample room, and no man 
 attempted to remonstrate with him or to 
 persuade him to remain. Some terrible 
 import, conveyed more by his manner 
 than his words, caused them to shrink 
 from him as from one accurst. Yet, in 
 after times, a few, more tender than the 
 rest, reproached themselves for not giving 
 him one parting compassionate word or 
 look. 
 
 He went from among them, and during 
 the following few weeks built himself a hut 
 in the most savage and inaccessible part of 
 the range leading to the basin of snow. If, 
 before he took up his residence there, that 
 dangerous mount was avoided, it became 
 now shunned by all, for in some mysterious 
 Avay a suspicion of the truth stole into 
 the minds of the islanders, which, growing 
 stronger and stronger as they put together 
 the links of circumstantial evidence, gradu- 
 ally settled into the belief that the wretch 
 who lived upon that evil spot was a mur- 
 derer, and had shed his brother's blood. 
 With the weight of this conviction upon 
 them, they were uncertain what course to 
 pursue. Some talked of dragging him
 
 38 In a Silvej' Sea, 
 
 from his hut, and accusing him of the 
 crime ; and some, more violent, were for 
 putting him to death without trial. 
 These wild impulses were overruled by 
 the elders of the isle. 
 
 " Justice must not be outraged," they 
 said. " What proofs have we ? and with- 
 out proof, how can we condemn? '' 
 
 They deliberated gravely, and called in 
 the priest to their aid. 
 
 " To punish upon suspicion,'* he said, 
 " would be to add crime to crime. Only 
 out of his own lips can he be proved guilty. 
 He has sworn a solemn oath never again to 
 speak word to mortal man, and you can 
 as easily compel the mountain to speak as 
 compel him to break his vow. Leave him 
 to God. Is he not already suffering the 
 tortures of a lost soul ? God be merciful 
 to him, a sinner ! " 
 
 So he was left in peace, to live his 
 wretched, desolate life. 
 
 His hut being built, he set to work 
 upon the task he had determined to per- 
 form. Cutting down a huge pine-tree, he 
 dragged it, inch by inch, to a clearing in 
 front of his dwelling. The labour was her- 
 culean, and no man but one possessed of
 
 In a Silver Sea. 39 
 
 enormous pHysical strength and amazing 
 inward sustaining power could liave accom- 
 plished it. He lopped off the branches, 
 and cleared the tree of all excrescences, 
 and when the huge plain trunk was before 
 him, he began to fashion it into the image 
 of the Saviour stretched upon the Cross. 
 The base of the tree, which was of astonish- 
 ing girth, formed the apex of the design, 
 and admitted of the carving of the out- 
 stretched arms. In storm and sunshine, 
 by night and day, the man pursued his 
 work. He lived upon roots and water, and 
 passed through sickness and fever without 
 abating one jot of his energy, in which, 
 could it have been witnessed, would have 
 been discerned the consuming strength of 
 despair and remorse concentrated upon 
 one supreme effort. The seasons changed ; 
 the leaves grew green and withered, and 
 again enjoyed their lives of youth and 
 beauty, and the man never ceased from 
 his labour. Year after year passed, and 
 still the man was employed upon the task. 
 His form could be dimly seen by the 
 islanders in the plains and valleys, and 
 after a time he was looked upon as some- 
 thing more than mortal. l!^o man ven-
 
 40 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 tured near, him, but he dwelt in the minds 
 of all. Women spoke of him with hushed 
 voices, and children, looking np to the 
 heights upon which he worked, quickly 
 shut their eyes as though a blight would 
 have fallen on them had they continued to 
 gaze upon the strange shadow wdiich never 
 for a moment seemed to rest from its 
 labour. At length, after a decade of years 
 had passed, the priest of the Silver Isle 
 called the old men around him, and 
 announced his intention of visiting the 
 sinner. His story was still fresh in the 
 minds of the white-haired men, and al- 
 though not one of them, with the excep- 
 tion of the priest, would have touched the 
 sinner's hand in friendship, time had 
 weakened their resentment against him. 
 
 " Terrible was his crime," said the 
 priest, " terrible has been his self-inflicted 
 punishment. It will be a work of mercy 
 to pour oil upon his wounds." 
 
 They offered to accompany him, but he 
 said he would go alone ; it would be best. 
 So, with their sanction, he departed, and 
 when he returned, told them in a voice 
 broken by emotion the story of his 
 mission.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 41 
 
 *' When he saw me walking up the 
 Tnoiintain's side towards him, he stood 
 and watched me. I am old, and my limbs 
 are feeble, but he made no eflfort to assist 
 me ; he simply waited to learn my errand. 
 I was supported by God, or I should 
 never have reached his hut. So rugged is 
 the road, and so beset with difficulty and 
 danger, that I often had to creep upon my 
 hands and knees for an hour or more, and 
 to walk long distances on narrow precipi- 
 tous paths where a slip of the foot would 
 be fatal. I arrived at the end of my 
 journey on the noon of the second day, 
 and stood face to face with the man whose 
 word for many years was law in our isle. 
 Ah, my friends ! you would not recognize 
 him, so changed is he. You will recall 
 him as he was in the pride of his youth, a 
 tall and handsome man, lithe and erect, 
 with stalwart limbs, and eyes bright as an 
 eagle's. All this strength and beauty 
 have vanished, as though they had never 
 been. His body is but skin and bone, his 
 hair is white, his hands are long and lean, 
 his face is pitifully haggard, he is wasted 
 almost to a shadow. Remembering what 
 he was, remembering that I had nursed
 
 42 In a Silvei" Sea. 
 
 him on my knee wlien he was an innocent 
 child, mj heart overflowed into my eyes 
 as I gazed upon the wreck of grandeur 
 and nobility. I held out my hand to him ; 
 he kept his arms folded on his breast. 1 
 addressed him in words of kindness ; he 
 replied not a word. 
 
 " ' If,' I said, ' your vow of silence 
 weighs upon you, and prevents you from 
 answering me, I absolve you from it. In 
 God's name, I absolve you. Through me, 
 His priest. He bids you speak. He bids 
 you pray.' 
 
 '' I saw that he knew the meaning of 
 my words. It would not have been 
 strange had he, living for so long a time 
 his terrible life of loneliness, lost all 
 understanding of our language. But he 
 had not ; he followed my words, but he 
 made no response to them. I knelt and 
 prayed. I prayed for him, a sinner ; in 
 his name I made to God a confession of 
 his crime ; for him and for myself I 
 humbled myself before the Divine Throne, 
 and supplicated for mercy and forgiveness. 
 He did not, would not, kneel beside me ; 
 he stood and listened in silence. For an 
 hour I prayed and talked ; and the man
 
 /;/ a Silver Sea, 4 3 
 
 miglit liave been made of stone, so un- 
 moved did lie appear. Faint with my 
 exertions, I asked if he would permit me 
 to enter his hut, and seek for food. He 
 said neither yea nor nay. I entered his 
 hut. Dear friends, my heart bled as 1 
 looked around. The walls of the hut are 
 bare, the ground is stony, and there is no 
 place but the earth to rest the weary 
 limbs. During all these years, the man 
 has lived in that drear habitation, with 
 roots for his food, with stones for his bed, 
 without complaining. What mortal can 
 do to expiate his sin, this man has done. 
 Surely he is forgiven ! Upon the ground 
 inside the hut I found some roots ; and 
 these were the only food his dwelling 
 contained. I brought them out, and ate 
 them in his presence, and taking a drink- 
 ing cup roughly carved from wood, filled 
 it with water from a rivulet close by, and 
 drank. I thought it would soften him to 
 see me partake with a willing heart of his 
 hospitality. I did more. I took from 
 my wallet some bread, and breaking it in 
 two, I ate one piece, and offered him the 
 other. He did not accept it, and I laid it 
 within the door of his hut. So engrossed
 
 44 I^^ ^ Silver Sea. 
 
 was I in my endeavour to reacli the lieart 
 of the suffering sinner that up to this time 
 my eyes had not beheld the marvellous 
 work upon which he has been engaged 
 from the time he left us, and when I 
 saw it I contemplated it with wonder. 
 From a pine-tree, measuring in its present 
 form not less than forty feet, he has 
 fashioned the image of Our Saviour 
 stretched upon the Cross, and has produced 
 a work so beautiful and pathetic as must 
 melt the heart of all who are permitted to 
 gaze upon the sacred symbol. Aye, were 
 his sin ever greater than it is, you would 
 cry, looking upon this work of expiation, 
 ' God be merciful to him, a sinner ! ' The 
 Crown of Thorns, the Blood, the depiction 
 of the Agony, are terrible and most ex- 
 quisite in their truth to life and nature. 
 Never in my life have I beheld so miracu- 
 lous a conception, and I did not doubt 
 that he intended to set it up in some suit- 
 able place, as a lasting memorial of his 
 repentance. I addressed him again. 
 
 " ' When I last spoke to you,' I said, ' I 
 offered to bless you, and you refused. At 
 that moment I did not understand why 
 you refused to accept the blessing of a
 
 In a Silver Sea, 45 
 
 minister of God ; afterwards, it was clear 
 to my mind. You deemed yourself not 
 worthy. My son, let me bless you now 1 ' 
 
 '' I spoke in vain. Human effort was 
 powerless to sap the fortress of silence in 
 which his soul was entrenched. If in the 
 depths of his nature he was stirred by my 
 appeal, he showed no sign of it. I prepared 
 in sorrow to depart, and as I turned to go 
 I said, — 
 
 " ' Fain would I leave some ray of light 
 behind me. Not alone out of my own 
 sense of duty did I come here to-day. 
 The wish has long been in my mind, and 
 before I put it into execution I called 
 around me the chief men of the isle, old 
 men who knew and loved you in the past. 
 They urged me to see you, and offered to 
 accompany me, but I thought it best to 
 come unattended. It would be false if I 
 were to tell you that you hold the place in 
 their minds you held in the days gone by ; 
 that can never be again. But in some 
 undefinable wayyou live still in their hearts. 
 You are to them as a son might be to a 
 parent whom he has deeply wronged and 
 sinned against,^ but to whom he is bound 
 by ties of blood and early affection. On
 
 46 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 the Sabbatli day, in the old church yonder 
 where you have so often knelt, we shall 
 pray for you. Think of it, and kneel with 
 us when the time for prayer arrives. We 
 shall be together in spirit, and you may be 
 grateful to know that you are not entirely 
 shut out from the sympathies of men.' 
 
 " While I spoke these last words, I saw 
 a moisture dim his eyes. He could not 
 control the heaving of his breast, but his 
 limbs obeyed his iron will. It gladdened 
 me to perceive that the thought that those 
 by whom he was once honoured did not 
 hold his memory in complete abhorrence 
 conveyed comfort to the wretched man. 
 He uttered no word. In silence he watched 
 my departure, and did not move while I 
 was in sight. Dear friends, never shall I 
 forget the misery of this man. Self-con- 
 demned, he lives his life of suffering, and 
 no punishment his fellow-man could inflict 
 could exceed that which he has inflicted 
 upon himself. He is but the shadow of 
 what he was, but his inward strength must 
 be enormous. It cannot last. When his 
 work is finished, when the marvellous figure 
 he has fashioned is set up as a supplication 
 for mercy at the Divine Throne, I foresee
 
 In a Silvei' Sea. 47 
 
 that lie will die. The vital power is only 
 sustained by the strongest effort of an in- 
 domitable will. It will hold out until his 
 task be done, and then the repentant sinner 
 will yield up his soul to its Creator. On 
 every Sabbath day we will pray for him and 
 with him, for assuredly, although he made 
 no response to my appeals, his heart will 
 soften when he is once more alone with 
 conscience and with God ! " 
 
 From that time forth the sinner was held 
 in pitying remembrance by the islanders, 
 and it grew to be a kind of belief with them 
 that the spirits of his brother and Evan- 
 geline were hovering over him through the 
 weary hours, awaiting the time when he 
 should rejoin them in the better world, to 
 greet him with the words, " Brother, thou 
 art forgiven ! " 
 
 The priest had prophesied truly. The 
 sinner's heart had been touched and 
 softened by the merciful visit, and when 
 the priest was out of sight the man cast 
 himself upon the earth, and bedewed the 
 bread upon his threshold with a blinding 
 passion of tears. And when the Sabbath 
 day arrived he knelt upon the stony ground, 
 and joined his prayers with those of the
 
 48 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 islanders, and thus became sympathetically 
 connected with his kind. No farther efforts 
 were made to intrude upon him, and the 
 sinner continued his work until at length 
 the first portion of his task was completed, 
 and he looked down upon the marvellously 
 carved figure of Christ upon the Cross. 
 What remained for him to do was most 
 dangerous, and seemed impossible of ac- 
 complishment ; but he had resolved within 
 himself, and only death could stop him. 
 
 From the summit of the snow mountain, 
 piercing its bosom, uprose a massive rock, 
 which from the depths looked like a needle 
 tapering to a point. But in fact its 
 upper surface was flat, and not less than 
 fifty feet in circumference. A foothold 
 could be maintained upon the soft mass of 
 snow which lay upon the thick and treache- 
 rous ice beneath, and both snow and ice 
 would have to be cleared away before the 
 surface of the rock could be laid bare. 
 Herculean was the design, yet here it was 
 that the sinner had resolved to rear the 
 gigantic figure. This was the altar he had 
 chosen upon which he would fix his symbol 
 to the glory of God. 
 
 To drag his carved tree to the spot
 
 In a Silver' Sea. 49 
 
 occupied liim full a year. Inch by incli it 
 was moved, uniiijured, iip tlie lieiglits, over 
 the chasms, along the precipices. He was 
 as tenderly careful of it as he could have 
 been had it been living flesh and blood he 
 was conveying to a destined goal. When 
 the islanders became conscious of his 
 purpose, they looked upon it as the scheme 
 of a madman. 
 
 " It cannot be done," they said. " It is 
 not in the power of mortal man." 
 
 " He will do it," said the priest of the 
 Silver Isle. 
 
 It appeared as if the man were anxious 
 to conceal his purpose from the knowledge 
 of the islanders until it was achieved ; or 
 perhaps, knowing that at certain points 
 he would be in full view of the inhabitants, 
 he was desirous to avoid their continuous 
 personal scrutiny. By whatever motive 
 he was prompted, he now worked only in 
 the night, and rested during the day. 
 Thus a new and weird interest was added 
 to the task, for when in the morninor it 
 was observed that a dangerous chasm had 
 been safely crossed, or some great peril 
 had been escaped, many believed that the 
 man had been assisted by supernatural 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 power. Not all were mercifully inclined 
 towards him; there were some whose 
 hearts were still stern and relentless, and 
 who, regarding the work as devoid of 
 holiness, entertained the idea that it was 
 being forwarded by the aid of evil spirits. 
 As the weeks and the months passed by, 
 the wonder of the islanders who watched 
 the herculean labour, j)erformed unaided 
 by one human being, grew stronger and 
 deeper. Without regard to season or 
 weather, the man worked patiently on, 
 and with each setting of the sun the 
 inhabitants of the Silver Isle, old and 
 young, would gather in clusters over the 
 plains and valleys, to watch his progress. 
 Whatever their own immediate troubles 
 and joys, in the midst of their sorrow and 
 gladness, this man was not entirely absent 
 from their minds. He was but a speck 
 upon the mountain side, an insignificant 
 atom amid Nature's terrible and beautiful 
 creations, but there was a pathos in his 
 slow and weary toil that touched the hearts 
 of those who were tenderly inclined. It 
 grew to be a custom to pray inwardly for 
 him, that his offering might be successfully 
 raised, and his sin wiped out. Their
 
 In a Silver Sea. 5 1 
 
 imaginations did not deceive thein wlien 
 they cried that thej saw blood upon his 
 hands and feet, for not a day passed that 
 his flesh was not torn by the sharp rocks. 
 Once he fell near the edge of a precipice, 
 and his symbol upon him, and it was not 
 until hours after the rising of the sun 
 that he succeeded in extricating himself. 
 Again and again the islanders expected 
 that he would be hurled into an abyss, 
 thousands and thousands of feet down, to 
 lie there till the Archangel sounded his 
 trumpet on the Judgment Day. Mothers, 
 waking up in the night, would see in the 
 darkness the phantom of this man toiling, 
 with ropes about his shoulders ; would see 
 a white and pitiful face and marks of 
 bleeding feet upon the rocks, and would 
 murmur, as they pressed their babes to 
 their bosoms, " God pity and pardon him, 
 and keep my child from crime ! " 
 
 So the work went on until the sacred 
 figure rested upon the highest surface of 
 the fatal mount. Then the flat table of 
 the rock had to be cleared of ice and snow, 
 and a foundation dug in it for the symbol 
 to rest in. With unwearying patience this 
 was done, and by slowly building beneath 
 E 2
 
 52 Li a Silver Sea. 
 
 the upper part of the symbol a pile of 
 stones, it was raised into such a position 
 that by a great effort it could be slipped 
 into the rocky bed prepared for it, and 
 there fixed for ever as a sign. 
 
 On a Saturday night in September, when 
 the lovely autumn colours were coming 
 into the leaves, all was ready for the final 
 effort. It had become known that the 
 sinner had nearly completed his self- 
 allotted task, and that the Sabbath sun 
 would shine upon his appeal to the Divine 
 Heart for mercy and forgiveness. The 
 night was intensely dark ; but the excite- 
 ment in the Silver Isle was so great that 
 none who were in health would retire to 
 rest. The islanders assembled on a plain 
 from which, on sunny days and moonlight 
 nights, a clear view of the snow-clad peak 
 could be obtained, and prepared to wait 
 for the rising of the sun. Those among- 
 them who remembered the day on which 
 their beloved Evangeline stood in the 
 church waiting for her bridegroom, re- 
 called the circumstances of that fatal time, 
 and saw with their mind's eye the beauti- 
 ful girl arrayed in the bridal dress which 
 proved her shroud. They spoke in whis-
 
 In a Silver Sea. ^2) 
 
 pers ; they moved softly about, and when 
 they smiled, tlieir smiles were sad ; gentle 
 thoughts only reigned in their minds. 
 Slowly the minutes passed until midnight 
 came ; women wept and strong men trem- 
 bled. The silences were broken by a 
 gasp, or by a cry of pity springing from 
 the depths of an overwrought soul, or by 
 the involuntary utterance of a short and 
 pitiful prayer. A dread mysterious in- 
 fluence was at work in the solemn thraldom 
 of that awful night. It stirred the hair of 
 men and women ; it impressed them with 
 their littleness, their helplessness, their 
 insignificance ; it made them liumble and 
 afraid. They stretched out their hands, 
 and drew closer to each other, husband to 
 wife, brother to sister, children to their 
 mothers. Thev derived comfort from 
 personal contact ; it was in some sense a 
 protection against the evil spirits which 
 they believed were contending with the 
 angels for the soul of the sinner. Family 
 ties that had been weakened in affection 
 became suddenly strong again; and had 
 two enemies stood side by side, an uncon- 
 trollable instinct would have caused them 
 to clasp hands in friendship. Darker and
 
 54 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 darker grew tlie niglit. Shadows glided 
 up and down tlie mountain sides, and 
 floated upwards from tlie depths, pregnant 
 with mysterious meaning. IVot a sound, 
 not a breath, not a movement escaped the 
 islanders that was not in sympathy with 
 the lonely sinner labouring on the snow- 
 clad peak. Straining their eyes thither- 
 ward, their fevered fancies created phan- 
 tasmagoria which they believed to be real. 
 Black clouds upon the lofty rock were 
 thought to represent the forms of the 
 sinner and his symbol. Now he was 
 putting the finishing touches to his work 
 of expiation ; now he was kneeling, with 
 his head bowed down in prayer ; now he 
 was looking upward with tear-stained face, 
 and his arms raised in supplication to 
 lieaven. The islanders paused not to con- 
 sider that, with a bright light shining on 
 the snowy heights, he would have appeared 
 even to the strongest sight as a mere speck 
 upon the horizon, whose movements it 
 would have been scarcely possible to dis- 
 tinguish. All things were possible on such 
 a night. It was a time for miracles. 
 
 " Hark ! " said one. " Did you not hear 
 aery?"
 
 In a Silver Sea, 55 
 
 Many were ready to aver tliat a cry 
 from the mountain top had floated down- 
 ward to the plain. But had such a cry 
 been uttered, it was incredible it could 
 have reached their ears. Eeason would 
 not have convinced them. They were the 
 slaves of imagination, — 
 
 Among them was the priest who had 
 visited the sinner. Ever and anon his 
 voice was heard in exhortation, — 
 
 '' Terrible was his sin. Terrible is his 
 expiation. Let the memory of the awful 
 deed remain for ever in this dear island 
 home as a sign, as a warning. If tempta- 
 tion assail thee, drive it forth ! This sinner 
 has done all that mortal man could do ; 
 his repentance is sincere; he has washed 
 his sin with tears of blood. His bloody 
 footsteps mark the path which leads to the 
 holy work he has performed. Christ be 
 merciful to him ! " 
 
 And all the congregation murmured, — 
 
 " Christ be merciful to him — and to me, 
 a sinner ! " 
 
 The snow mountain lay in the eye of 
 the east, and in the early morning the sun 
 was wont to bathe the white expanse with 
 rosy light. So beautiful in this aspect did
 
 56 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 it look that it seemed to belong to another 
 and more lovely world. As the night pro- 
 gressed, the watchers grew more excited 
 and eager. 
 
 "Is it not time for the sun to rise?'* 
 some asked. 
 
 " Not till another hour has passed," 
 replied the more patient ones. 
 
 Shortly after these words were spoken, 
 mutterings of a storm were heard, and it 
 soon burst over the land. No rain fell 
 upon the plains and valleys, but the light- 
 ning played over the mountain, and the 
 thunder rolled down its rugged sides. 
 Fiercer and fiercer grew the storm until 
 it attained the most terrible proportions. 
 It shook the earth to its foundations ; in 
 the memory of living man dwelt not so 
 fearful an experience. But terrible as it 
 was, it did not divert the thoughts of the 
 islanders from the sinner who had drawn 
 them together. The storm was for him ; 
 he was there upon the mountain top, he 
 and his sin, battling with it. God was 
 speaking to him in fire and thunder, and 
 demons and angels were fighting for his 
 soul. Which would conquer? As they 
 gazed upwards at the gloomy heights, a 
 vivid flash of lightning gashed the dark
 
 In a Silver Sea. 57 
 
 bosom of the sky ; the thunder rolled more 
 fiercely ; the heavens appeared to open ; 
 and a straight line of fire, suddenly 
 descending from the very heart of the 
 unseen world, stabbed with fatal light the 
 man and his work of repentance, which in 
 that awful moment were hurled into the 
 abyss yawning beneath them. 
 
 A cry of horror rose from the throats 
 of the islanders, and in the midst of the 
 dense darkness that followed no man 
 dared to speak, so appalling was the 
 impression produced by the event. The 
 storm abated, and died away in sobs ; and 
 presently a faint light dawned in the sky. 
 The light grew stronger, clearer. A hazy, 
 golden mist rolled over the snow moun- 
 tain, and when its peaks were tipped with 
 the fire of the rising sun, the islanders saw 
 no sign of the sinner and his symbol. God 
 had rejected his work, and had declared 
 that not in this world should the sinner be 
 allowed to work out the full measure of 
 his punishment ! 
 
 From that day forth, the mountain was 
 looked upon as accurst, and all men 
 avoided it ! 
 
 THE END OF THE PEOLOGUE.
 
 s8 I 71 a Silver Sea. 
 
 THE STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MAUVAIN TAKES REFUaE IN THE SILVER ISLE. 
 
 The progress of time had no softening 
 effect upon tlie evil reputation of tlie 
 accursed mount. For more than a hun- 
 dred years no human sound had proceeded 
 from the deserted heights; shadowless 
 forms, spirits wrapt in a deadly mantle of 
 silence, held dominion there. The fair 
 white snow-land gleamed as beautifully 
 now in the eye of the sun as it had done 
 thousands of years ago, and it would have 
 been difficult for a stranger to believe that 
 a tragedy in which God's judgment had 
 been so fearfully demonstrated could 
 ever have occurred upon its stainless 
 bosom. But the story of the crime and its 
 punishment formed the blackest page in 
 the history of the Silver Isle, and the 
 peaceful aspect of the mount did not lessen 
 the abhorrence in which it was held by the
 
 In a Silver Sea. 59 
 
 islanders. Even now, altliough six genera- 
 tions of men liacl passed away since ttie 
 awful nigtit npon wliicli the destruction of 
 the sinner and his symbol was accom- 
 plished, only one man's shadow fell upon 
 the rugged paths leading to the basin of 
 eternal snow. 
 
 The man was Ranf the Deformed. 
 
 In the year 1830 of the present century 
 an unusual circumstance occurred in the 
 Silver Isle. The white sails of a schooner 
 were seen within a few miles of the shore. 
 A visit from the outer world was an event 
 so rare that the islanders watched with 
 deep interest the movements of the schooner. 
 Children ran to the hillocks, and gazed 
 with delight upon the snowy wings of the 
 sea-bird; women also experienced a feel- 
 ing of pleasure in observing the graceful 
 dip and rise of the vessel. Their pleasure 
 was not shared by the older residents of 
 the isle, who silently asked each other 
 whether the schooner came as friend or 
 foe. The question was soon answered. 
 The schooner anchored in the bay ; in 
 the evening a boat rowed towards the 
 shore, and four sailors and a landsman 
 leaped upon the beach. Two chests were
 
 6o In a Silver Sea. 
 
 in tlie boat, and tliese were brought to 
 land, and placed on the beach, high up, out 
 of reach of the tide. This done in silence, 
 the sailors, obeying the instructions of the 
 landsman, returned to the boat, and rested 
 on their oars. The man who remained was 
 roughly attired, and for a moment or two 
 he stood silently regarding a group of 
 islanders who were watching his proceed- 
 ings. Presently he approached them and 
 addressed them in courteous tones, — 
 
 " I am flying for my life," he said. '^ I 
 come to you for shelter and protection." 
 
 His demeanour was so unaffectedly 
 composed as to appear to some to afford a 
 contradiction to the serious import of his 
 words ; but it was evident to the more 
 experienced that he was in earnest. 
 
 In front of the group stood one of the 
 magistrates of the isle, known as Father 
 Sebastian. 
 
 '* This is not a sanctuary," said Father 
 Sebastian ; " it is a land whose inhabitants 
 desire to live in peace with all men. If 
 you are flying for your life, you have com- 
 mitted crime." 
 
 '' Not so," rejoined the stranger in a 
 light tone ; and it was apparent from his
 
 In a Silver Sea. 6 [ 
 
 speecli and bearing that lie was a gentle- 
 man, despite his common dress ; ^' unless 
 it be a crime to liave opinions. It is one 
 of the misfortunes of our family. I have 
 played a part in a too turbulent civiliza- 
 tion ; having opinions, I expressed them ; 
 having the honour of an ancient name to 
 uphold, I upheld it. I simpl}^ happen to 
 belong to the party that is out of power, 
 and, being down instead of up, I am 
 naturally disgusted with the world until 
 my turn come again. I seek the security 
 that is to be found in forge tfulnes s ; in 
 this I follow the footsteps of my grand- 
 father, who fifty years ago, under precisely 
 similar circumstances, sought refuge here 
 and obtained it. He did not abuse your 
 hospitality. Our name is Mauvain." 
 
 "Your name is known," said Father 
 Sebastian. *' I am old enough to have a 
 dim remembrance of your grandfather, 
 who, after he left this isle, sent us remem- 
 brances which we still possess." 
 
 " Our family were ever grateful," said 
 Mauvain with a bow. " In my boyhood I 
 heard my grandfather speak in terms of 
 admiration of your ways and mode of life ; 
 therefore," he added, with a touch of
 
 62 In a Silvei^ Sea. 
 
 pleasant sophistry, '' your virtues are to 
 blame for my intrusion. These papers 
 will prove that I am the person I represent 
 myself to be." He paused to allow Father 
 Sebastian to examine the papers, and then 
 said, '' I ask permission to remain here till 
 I can return to my native land." 
 
 He held out his hand, which Father 
 Sebastian accepted, and thus Mauvain was 
 made free of the isle. 
 
 Thereafter, from time to time, a brig 
 came to the isle, bringing Mauvain letters 
 and newspapers which he read with eager- 
 ness, and bringing also implements and 
 tools of use to the islanders, which 
 Mauvain employed in the way of barter 
 and exchange. By these means he became 
 the owner of land, and he was soon looked 
 upon by the islanders as one of themselves. 
 He had already told them that he pos- 
 sessed opinions ; in addition, he possessed 
 ideas, and being of an energetic, restless 
 nature, he strove to make them popular. 
 In this he was unsuccessful. The islanders 
 would have none of his crotchets. The 
 Silver Isle was ruled by wise men, who, 
 born in simplicity, and living happily and 
 contentedly in that state^ were anxious
 
 In a Silvei^ Sea. 6^ 
 
 to avoid disturbing elements. Especially 
 were they anxious that tlie minds of their 
 young men should not be agitated by wild 
 theories. But Mauvain was by nature 
 dogmatic and masterful, and it needed a 
 strong remonstrance before he could be 
 made to relinquish the idea of making their 
 wills the slaves of his. 
 
 '' Let be, Mauvain, let be," said Father 
 Sebastian. " We are the best judges of 
 whether we need this or that. Our fore- 
 fathers left us an inheritance of content- 
 ment, which we in our turn desire to leave 
 to our children. "We are in harmony with 
 each other, and we account indolence a 
 vice. Brought up in virtue and industry, 
 our young men and women live their lives 
 in peace, and worship God. What changes 
 have come upon our isle have come 
 naturally, and we would not have it 
 otherwise. Hothouses are not to our 
 taste. Friend Mauvain, keep your new- 
 fangled notions to yourself, and do not 
 strive to turn us from our ways. It is no 
 reproach to us if we do not move as quickly 
 as the country in which you have lived. 
 Setting our experiences against yours, the 
 advantage, I take it, is on our side. If
 
 64 I'^^ ci Silvei" Sea. 
 
 things are well with men, it is a misfortune 
 if they are tempted to believe that they are 
 sent into the world to set every wrong 
 thing right. Each to do his best in 
 the small circle in which he moves — 
 that is both philosophy and rehgion : and 
 it is our aim. We are not savages, as you 
 see ; we have a regard for cleanliness and 
 godliness ; we have enough for our spiri- 
 tual and temporal needs; and, friend 
 Mauvain, if you have not already learned 
 it, you are old enough to learn it now — 
 enough is enough." 
 
 Mauvain shrugged his shoulders. " Make 
 a troglodyte of me," he said with a slight 
 sneer, " or teach me to crawl like the 
 crab." 
 
 But he had the grace to recognize that 
 it would be a breach of hospitality to con- 
 tinue his endeavours to force his opinions 
 upon the islanders. Condemned by cir- 
 cumstances to remain among them, he 
 could not pass his days in idleness. For 
 a time he shut himself up with his books 
 and newspapers, but they were not suf- 
 ficient to satisfy his active temperament. 
 He strove to lighten the weary hours by 
 writing something in the form of memoirs.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 65 
 
 but it was not long before tie flung away 
 the pen. Then the beauty of the isle 
 drew him forth, and he wandered over 
 its length and breadth. '* Searching for 
 fairies," he said sportively. He found 
 neither fairy nor malignant spirit, nor did 
 he chance upon an Aladdin's cave, although 
 the isle was prolific in rare surprises. But 
 he made a substantial discovery. In a 
 wild gulch in an uninhabited part of the isle 
 he found traces of silver ore. The land 
 round about was waste land, and he pur-* 
 chased it of the commonwealth, paying 
 for it in ploughs and harrows of improved 
 design. He prosecuted his search, and 
 hired men to work for him in the gulch 
 during the winter season. They un- 
 earthed a rich mine, and in the spring 
 Mauvain and his workmen returned to 
 the centre of population, bringing with 
 them some sacks of silver ore. He 
 exhibited the treasure exultantly to the 
 islanders, and told them it was freislebenite, 
 and contained antimony, lead, sulphur, 
 and silver. They smiled at his enthu- 
 siasm, and said they preferred golden 
 grain. The ore, however, was melted, and 
 a large yield of silver was obtained. It 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 was of little value to Mauvain or to any one 
 else on the isle ; but Mauvain continued 
 to work the mine intermittently, chiefly for 
 the purpose of employing his time. It 
 could scarcely have been for gain, for he 
 was otherwise rich in his own right in the 
 country to which he was not free to 
 return. 
 
 But the release came at last, and after 
 the lapse of a dozen years he received the 
 welcome news that he might return in 
 "safety to his native land. His face bright- 
 ened with joy, and yet, as he drew a deep 
 breath, and extended his arms to embrace 
 the spirit of liberty, he felt a pang of regret. 
 Yesterday the isle had been a prison ; to- 
 day it was fair and sweet in his eyes. 
 Yesterday it was a cage, to-day it was a 
 garden. How bright were the clouds; 
 how fragrant the air ; how beneficent the 
 earth ! Never in his dreams had he 
 imagined a spot upon earth so calm, so 
 peaceful, so free from care ! In the pretty 
 house he had built for himself in the Silver 
 Isle, he received from an old-time friend 
 all the particulars of the fortunate change 
 in affairs which had restored him to his 
 position in the world. It seemed as if he
 
 In a Silver Sea, 6y 
 
 would never be done with his questions, so 
 eager was he to hear all that had passed 
 in his absence. He inquired with keen 
 interest after such and such men whom 
 he had known, and he learned that some 
 were dead, some disgraced, some at the 
 top of the ladder, some crawling in the 
 gutters. 
 
 '' Ah, well," said he, '' 'tis battledore 
 and shuttlecock ; I'll play the battledore 
 for the future, be sure of that." 
 
 After women also he inquired, and 
 learnt who led and who followed, who 
 were sought after, who laughed at, and 
 what was the character of the imperious 
 beauty who reigned in the world of fashion. 
 The most popular idol was one whom he 
 had nursed on his knee before the tide of 
 his fortunes had changed for the worse ; 
 she was a child at that time — docile, meek, 
 obedient — now she was a woman, haughty, 
 proud, capricious. She, a patrician, and 
 another, who had risen from vile depths, 
 ruled the world of fashion between them. 
 A smile rested upon Mauvain's handsome 
 lips as he listened and dreamt of future 
 conquests. While the conversation was 
 proceeding he unlocked a chest, and 
 F 2
 
 68 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 producing therefrom a suit of tlie finest 
 clothes, decked himself out as be- 
 came his rank and station. With the 
 delight of a child he contemplated the 
 reflection of his fine feathers in the 
 mirror. 
 
 " I am going to live once more," he 
 thought, and as he sprinkled a delicate 
 perfume over his clothes, he made a vow 
 to drink the cup of pleasure to the last 
 drop. Brave and vain ; clear-sighted and 
 dogmatic ; nice in small points of honour, 
 and unscrupulous in his observance of 
 moral obligations ; capable of reasoning 
 truthfully upon the passing circumstance, 
 and apt at the same time to applaud him- 
 self extravagantly for his critical insight ; 
 now haughty and now pleasantly familiar; 
 generous in money matters ; ready to 
 laugh at questions of morality where the 
 gratification of his desires was concerned, 
 but most jealous in that respect towards 
 those who were allied to him — this was 
 Mauvain, who had one law for himself and 
 another for his neighbour. 
 
 When, his toilet being completed, he 
 stepped from his house and presented 
 himself to the islanders, they saw a gentle-
 
 In a Silver Sea, 69 
 
 man of rank, attired in silk and lace, with 
 a sword hanging at his side. It was a 
 metamorphosis. The man was there, but 
 not the man with whom they had been 
 familiar. A dainty handkerchief was in 
 his hand, which he waved lightly in the 
 air; a jewelled snuff-box, too, although he 
 disliked snuff. Fortunate, therefore, that 
 the box was empty. The life he had led 
 on the isle had so greatly benefited him 
 that he looked younger than he had done 
 on the day, a dozen years ago, he first 
 appeared among them. The surprise his 
 appearance excited pleased him, and he 
 inclined his head this way and that, as 
 though he were a king receiving the con- 
 gratulations of his subjects ; and as he 
 bowed with a superb and affable air, he 
 daintily regaled his nose with pinches of 
 nothing from his jewelled snuff-box. The 
 islanders, somewhat awed by his grand 
 manner, presented him with small tokens 
 of affection, and expressed their regret at 
 his departure. 
 
 " Regret," said Father Sebastian gravely, 
 " which I hope is mutual. Your sojourn 
 here has done you no harm." 
 
 " I am younger at heart," responded
 
 70 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Mauvain gaily, "and older in wisdom. 
 You have taught me much worth learning, 
 and I fear you must sometimes have con- 
 sidered me ungrateful. Yes ; I feel that I 
 have been happy. This isle contains the 
 true elixir of life, and those qualities which 
 best sweeten it, gentleness and content, 
 grow like sweet roses in the summer air. 
 You might ask, ' Why fly from us, then ? ' 
 It would ill become me were I to say that 
 a man is not an ox, whose only ambition 
 it is to eat succulent grass and breathe 
 fresh air. More graceful to say that there 
 are also roses in my own land whose 
 perfume I long to inhale, flowers which 
 seem, although they may not be, as bright. 
 Do not think unkindly of me. Our ambi- 
 tions, our hopes, our desires, are widely 
 apart. That the happier life is yours I do 
 not dispute, but no man can resist his star, 
 and mine shines yonder, across the sea, 
 where already I see the lights and hear 
 the music of familiar voices. Adieu, my 
 friends. What property I have in this 
 isle is in your charge until I, or some 
 other authorized by me, appears to claim 
 it. I go to take up the broken thread 
 of life, and it will be pleasant to me to
 
 In a Silver Sea. 71 
 
 feel that I am still linked to the land 
 which has sheltered me for so many 
 years." 
 
 He spoke with emotion which, for the 
 moment, was sincere. The enforced repose 
 he had enjoyed filled him now with grati- 
 tude, in which was curiously mingled a 
 gentle glow of self-satisfaction. '' Strange 
 inconsistency of human nature," he mut- 
 tered, " that we can only enjoy the past in 
 the present ! " So, with goodwill on both 
 sides, he and his island friends bade fare- 
 well. 
 
 In papers that were found after his 
 departure the disposition of his property 
 was clearly set forth. He requested the 
 islanders to make what use they pleased of 
 his house, which was one of the largest 
 and prettiest in the isle, and asked who- 
 ever occupied it to keep the grounds and 
 gardens around it in good order. As he 
 had told them, all his property was to be 
 considered theirs, with but one reservation, 
 which referred to the silver-mine in the 
 gulch. In the event of its being worked, 
 he desired that his proprietary rights 
 should be recognized by a royalty of one- 
 tenth portion of the silver it produced,
 
 72 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 whicli was to be stored until it was 
 claimed by himself or bis heirs. The 
 islanders accepted the trust, and faith- 
 fully observed the conditions attached 
 to it.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 73 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TO THE SILVER ISLE COMES AN EVANGELINE 
 WHOSE LIPS AEE MUTE. 
 
 Feom the period of Mauvain's departure, 
 the isle was visited, about once every year, 
 by a brig, of which it was understood that 
 Mauvain was the owner. The captain 
 brought with him pretty oddments from 
 the troublous world whose thirsts and 
 fevers had not yet touched the lovely 
 land in which the spirit of peace reigned 
 supreme ; and when he found that these 
 ornaments were not in favour, he brought 
 agricultural implements and exchanged 
 them for skins and horns of cattle. But 
 his ambition was not to be bounded by 
 these articles of barter and exchange. 
 
 " You have," he said to the islanders, 
 " what is more valuable to me than horn 
 and hides." 
 
 " What is that ? " they asked.
 
 74 I^^ ^ Silver Sea, 
 
 " Silver." 
 
 This opened their eyes, and they availed 
 themselves of Man vain' s permission to 
 work the mine, and used the treasure for 
 the common good, with sense and wisdom, 
 never failing to set aside a just tenth for 
 Mauvain or his heirs. The captain gained 
 his end, but it vexed him to the soul that 
 he could not tempt the people to trade for 
 gew-gaws, in which lay larger profits for 
 himself. 
 
 Casting about for legitimate roads to 
 trade, the captain heard the story of Evan- 
 geline and the two brothers, and he 
 straightway suggested that it would be a 
 rare achievement to beautify the great 
 market-place of the Silver Isle with a 
 marble statue of the girl, the memory of 
 whom had not faded from the minds of the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 '' See you now," said the captain, ''for 
 a thousand ounces of silver I will brino: 
 you an image which shall be the wonder of 
 the isle — a life-size image of Evangeline, in 
 pure white marble. For another two hun- 
 dred ounces I will bring you a pedestal of 
 veined stone, upon which it shall stand. 
 Give me a picture of the maid, and make
 
 In a Silver Sea, 75 
 
 her as fair and beautiful as you please. I 
 will stake my life your picture shall not 
 outrival in grace my statue of stone. It 
 shall do all but speak." 
 
 They fell in gladly with the captain's 
 offer, the bargain was made, and their 
 most skilful artist drew a picture of Evan- 
 geline, taking for his model the fairest 
 maid in the isle. He could not improve 
 upon her, for flesh and blood and bone 
 were never seen in more graceful conjunc- 
 tion than in the Silver Isle. There were 
 women there as beautiful as Yenus, and 
 men as graceful as Apollo. The strange 
 part of it was that, although the women 
 knew they were fair, not all their heads 
 were turned by the knowledge. 
 
 I would not have you believe they were 
 all saints. There were sinners among 
 them, as you shall find. 
 
 The captain took away the picture, and 
 upon his next visit brought with him as 
 beautiful a statue in pure white marble as 
 genius in its first spiritual strength could 
 produce. The girl was represented in her 
 happiest mood. Her limbs were perfectly 
 moulded, her feet were bare, her head was 
 shghtly inchned forward. A smile was on
 
 76 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 her lips, her right hand was raised, and 
 her forefinger crooked towards her ear, as 
 if in the act of listening. That the face 
 was not a reproduction of the picture 
 drawn by the island artist was of small 
 account ; it was most perfect in its beauty. 
 The sculptor had worked with the soul of 
 an artist. 
 
 The satisfaction of the islanders was 
 expressed in words and looks of admira- 
 tion, and the captain brought to bear 
 the cunning of the world's ways, not 
 entirely discarding truth in his scheming 
 words. 
 
 " The artist who fashioned this figure," 
 he said, " is a young man who will 
 become famous in the world — one who 
 loves his art better than money. That 
 should not be taken advantage of — it is a 
 scurvy trick to pay a man half value for 
 his labour. Had you seen this young 
 sculptor with the figure growing beneath 
 his chisel, you would have been amazed 
 at his enthusiasm. He worked day 
 and night, like a man in a fever of 
 love, as though he expected when it 
 was finished to see it burst into life, throw 
 its arms round his neck, and press its
 
 In a Silver Sea. yj 
 
 warm lips of flesli and blood to his. 
 It almost broke his heart to part with it. 
 I speak the truth when I say that it 
 occupied him more than double the time 
 he expected. It was a bad bargain for 
 him when I fixed the price at a thousand 
 ounces." 
 
 " It is a noble work," said the pur- 
 chasers : ''we will pay him what you 
 consider just." 
 
 By which piece of roguery the captain 
 profited to the tune of three hundred 
 ounces of silver. 
 
 The statue was set up in the market- 
 place, and the silver weighed out and paid, 
 and all parties were well content. Thus 
 matters went on for a few years, and then 
 the schooner unexpectedly made its appear- 
 ance, and brought with it another kind of 
 cargo than that to which the islanders 
 were accustomed. 
 
 It was early autumn, and the men and 
 women were in the fields, singing over 
 their work. The air was sweet with the 
 fragrance of new-mown hay. 
 
 Some children playing on the beach 
 stopped in the midst of their play, and 
 drew nearer to the edge of the waves to
 
 78 In a Silvei' Sea. 
 
 watcli the progress of a boat whicli was 
 approaching the shore. In it were two 
 sailors, rowing, and a young man who 
 leant back, and played with the water, 
 letting it run lazily through his fingers. 
 A spell of indolence was upon him, for he 
 stepped languidly from the boat, and 
 coming among the children, did not speak 
 for a little while. The children, full of 
 curiosity, and not afraid, took note in their 
 quiet wondering way of the rings the 
 young man wore upon his fingers, of the 
 gold chain which hung across his waist- 
 coat, of the diamond pin in his scarf, of 
 the jewelled cane which he did not seem 
 to have the strength to twirl between his 
 fingers. 
 
 "Children," he said presently, "is this 
 Lotus Land?" 
 
 Xot understanding the question, they 
 did not answer him, and he continued in 
 his soft melodious voice, — 
 
 " I can imagine a harder lot than to be 
 condemned to live within this prison of 
 sweetness. A wood-fairy might take pity 
 on a mortal, and offer him the shelter of 
 her bower. Children, if you are not sea- 
 born and understand the language I speak,
 
 I 71 a Silver Sea. 79 
 
 tell me if I haye not lost my way across 
 the sea. This is the Silver Isle ? Bright 
 eyes and intelligent nods are a sufficient 
 answer. There are a few grown-up persons 
 here, I suppose. The isle is not peopled 
 by children only, who never grow bigger 
 or older ? You, for instance, my little 
 maid, have a father and mother ? " 
 
 '' Oh, yes," replied the child, " and 
 father is in the fields working.'' 
 
 " Take me to him." 
 
 She slipped her hand in his, and he 
 looked down, amused, upon her pretty 
 face, and submitted to be led to the fields 
 where a number of the islanders were at 
 work. The pleasant aspect of the scene 
 impressed him deeply, the people were so 
 different from the hinds who did such 
 work in his own country. 
 
 " Arcadia ! " he murmured. 
 
 '* Here is father," said the girl, as a tall 
 sun -burnt man moved towards the stranger. 
 
 " I have landed from the schooner," 
 said the new-comer, " and have brought a 
 charge which I am to deliver to one Father 
 Sebastian, if he be alive." 
 
 *' Father Sebastian is alive," said the 
 islander. " From whom come you ? "
 
 8o In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " From Mauvain." 
 
 '* That is sufficient ; rest here awhile, 
 and we will send for Father Sebastian. 
 Our children shall bring you some fruit." 
 
 The new-comer threw himself upon the 
 tumbled hay, and took note dreamily of 
 the happy life by which he was surrounded.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TO THE SILVER ISLE COMES A NEW EVANGE- 
 LINE WHOSE LIPS ARE ANIMATE. 
 
 A SOFT languor stole over his senses. He 
 was in the state between sleeping and 
 waking, when one is not sure whether he 
 is in a living world or in a world of 
 shadows. At such a time what is most 
 extravagant is accepted as most probable ; 
 there is nothing to wonder at in the 
 strangest contradictions. Reason sleeps ; 
 imagination reigns in its most fantastic 
 forms. If the enchanted mortal lies in a 
 darkened room, where palpable objects are 
 shut from his sight, his mind is dominated 
 by phantasms which have no prompting 
 from what is passing around him. To the 
 lover comes a sweet aud gracious face, 
 which represents the light and loveliness 
 of the earth ; to the miser, a suit of 
 diamonds, in which he sits and gloats, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 while troops of gnomes empty sacks of 
 gold at his feet ; to the widowed heart a 
 dear form, lost to her for ever, which says, 
 with radiant smile, " I live ;" to the poet, 
 a star, which kisses him, and to which he 
 talks as to a beloved comrade. 
 
 The new visitor to the Silver Isle lay 
 under a different form of enchantment. 
 The full sunlight was upon him, he 
 was surrounded by breathing, moving 
 life, and the shape in which it pre- 
 sented itself to him was inspired by a 
 nature essentially dreamy and poetical. 
 Gazing before him with half-closed eyes, 
 every object that met his sight was in- 
 vested with an air of delicious unreality. 
 The clouds appeared to be thousands of 
 miles away, and the human workers in the 
 fields, with the landscape beyond, were 
 wrapt in a hazy mist. The delusion ex- 
 tended to the voices of the reapers ; words 
 that were spoken within a few yards of him 
 came to his ears now as though from an 
 illimitable distance, and now quite close, 
 with a lullaby resembling the soft murmur- 
 ing of a leafy wood. Colour and sound were 
 in perfect harmony with the restfulness of 
 time and scene. The dreamer yielded unre-
 
 In a Silver Sea, 83 
 
 sistingly to the sensuous spell, and believed 
 himself to be enjoying a foretaste of 
 eternity. 
 
 Thus he lay UDtil the messenger who had 
 been sent for Father Sebastian returned 
 with the message that the magistrate was in 
 the market-place, and desired to see the 
 stranger there. 
 
 Unwillingly he rose, and followed the man 
 over the lower slopes of the hills, which 
 were dotted with clusters of pretty houses, 
 built in various styles to suit the tastes of 
 the residents. Every house was surrounded 
 by a verandah, and was embosomed in a 
 garden of flowers. The eye was refreshed 
 at every turn by evidences of refinement 
 and simphcity. The roads were well kept, 
 the hedges were beautiful in their variety, 
 being formed of may and wild roses, holly, 
 sweet barberry, and privet ; and the air was 
 impregnated now with the sweet perfume 
 of syringa floating from dusky avenues 
 of trees, now with the more delicate 
 fragrance wafted from distant fields of 
 lavender. 
 
 "Mauvain was right," mused the stranger. 
 " When a man is surfeited with the sweets 
 or disgusted with the buffets of the world, 
 G 2
 
 84 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 this is the land in whicli to spin out what 
 remains of the days of his life." 
 
 Father Sebastian was in the market- 
 place ; in a few days the autumn games 
 were to be held, and men were working 
 under his direction, fixing the flags and 
 poles and bushes, and preparing the 
 ground for one of the great fetes of the 
 year. 
 
 '' Yonder is Father Sebastian," said the 
 messenger. 
 
 An old man, whose white hair flowed to 
 his shoulders, advanced to the stranger and 
 saluted him. 
 
 ''I regret," he said, "you should have 
 had the trouble to come to me, but I could 
 not leave my workmen." 
 
 " The gain is mine," said the stranger ; 
 " it has given me the opportunity of seeing 
 something of your beautiful isle ; though 
 I should have been content to dream the day 
 away in the fields with your haymakers." 
 
 " We live a very practical life," said 
 Father Sebastian; ''our people are not 
 dreamers. You come from Mauvain ? " 
 
 '' Yes. ' Harold,' said Mauvain to me, 
 a short month ago, ' you are wearied with 
 the world—' "
 
 In a Silver Sea, 85 
 
 " You ! '* exclaimed Father Sebastian, 
 interrupting the speaker, whose age could 
 not have exceeded twenty-five years. 
 " So young a man, already wearied with 
 life ! " 
 
 " It surprises you," replied Harold 
 languidly ; "but have you ever asked 
 yourself whether there is anything in 
 life worth caring for ? " 
 
 " I am thankful to say I have never been 
 brought to that pass." 
 
 " I have — many times. Life is made up 
 of pleasure and pain, in neither of which 
 is there much variety. One kind is much 
 like another kind, and the sensations they 
 produce are always the same. It is good 
 that existence has a natural limit. In such 
 a land as this a man might accept without 
 much misgiving the gift of immortality, but 
 in the busy world it would be an awful 
 purgatory. ' Harold,' said Mauvain to me, 
 * you are wearied, exhausted ; excitement 
 has been bad for you. You need repose ; 
 I can offer it to you. I am in want of a 
 friend to execute a delicate commission for 
 me. I select you as that friend ' — (it is 
 Mauvain' s way to take things for granted 
 when he wants a favour done) — * I select
 
 86 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 you as tliat friend, and, in obliging me, yon 
 shall oblige yourself. You are for ever 
 sighing and searching for simplicity ; I will 
 send you to an isle where its spirit dwells.' 
 He explained the commission to me, and 
 I accepted it. I must do Mauvain the 
 justice to admit that his description of the 
 Silver Isle was not strained. His eloquent 
 words stirred even my sluggish blood." 
 
 " We hold Mauvain in high regard. Is 
 he well — satisfied — happy ? " 
 
 '' He is well. As to being satisfied and 
 happy — those are questions a man must 
 answer for himself." 
 
 " You speak wisely. What is the nature 
 of Mauvain's commission ? " 
 
 ''Human. At least, one half of it is. 
 The other half probably had its origin in 
 the lower regions. You do not understand 
 me ? This letter may help you." 
 
 The letter he handed to Father Sebastian 
 ran as follows : — 
 
 '' Sir, — By the hands of my friend, 
 Harold, a scapegrace, whom I beg you to 
 welcome, for his own sake, I send you a 
 trust which I ask you to accept in kindly 
 remembrance of one who owes you already
 
 In a Silver Sea, 87 
 
 a debt of gratitude lie can never repay. 
 By so doing you will confer upon me an 
 inestimable obligation. I may one day 
 come to tbank you in person for your kind- 
 ness. Whatever expenses may be attendant 
 upon tbe cbarge I confide to you can be 
 defrayed out of the property standing in 
 my name in the Silver Isle. Repay your- 
 selves, I pray; but the obligation will 
 remain, and will ever be gratefully remem- 
 bered by your faithful friend, 
 
 "Mauvain." 
 
 Father Sebastian read the letter aloud, 
 and said, — 
 
 "Mauvain's letter explains as little as 
 your words the nature of his commission, 
 but what he sends us will be received and 
 welcomed, and will be faithfully cared for 
 until it is reclaimed. The commission, so 
 far as I can make out, is in the form of a 
 consignment. Is that so ? " 
 
 '' It is so.'' 
 
 " Have you brought it ashore ? " 
 
 " No ; it is in the schooner." 
 
 " If you will bring it, we will receive it 
 from your hands, and give you quittance 
 for it."
 
 88 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 A smile crossed Harold's lips. 
 
 " I need no receipt. It can speak for 
 itself." 
 
 As he turned to go, his eyes fell upon 
 the statue of Evangeline, which stood in 
 the centre of the market-place. 
 
 ''Have you sculptors in the isle? "he 
 asked. 
 
 " We have men who employ their leisure 
 in the study of the art," replied Father 
 Sebastian, " but none able to produce such 
 a figure as that." 
 
 "It is to be hoped not," said Harold, 
 shrugging his shoulders, '' for never was 
 the human form so travestied. The com- 
 position of the figure is unutterably bad, 
 the expression most vile, the limbs and 
 features entirely out of proportion." 
 
 "Your critical judgment," said Father 
 Sebastian warmly, " is sadly in error. The 
 figure is faultless, and full of grace ; it is 
 the work of a young sculptor in Mauvain's 
 land—" 
 
 " Very young, I should say," interrupted 
 Harold. 
 
 "And is most exquisite," continued 
 Father Sebastian, "in composition and 
 detail. It is not alone the work of a man's
 
 In a Silver Sea. 89 
 
 hand, it is the work of a man's soul, and 
 were tlie artist here we should be proud to 
 do him honour." 
 
 " In what way ? " asked Harold listlessly. 
 " Would you give him a wreath, or fill his 
 ears with empty phrases ? That is how 
 genius is rewarded over the water. Or 
 they wait until the man dies in poverty, 
 and then they erect a statue over his 
 grave. I hope the sculptor who moulded 
 and cut this figure, vile as it is, was 
 substantially rewarded for it in his life- 
 time." 
 
 " Thirteen hundred ounces of silver was 
 the price he was paid for his work." 
 
 " Little enough ; I hope he got it. There 
 is so much roguery in the world that one 
 is never sure. Now I look at the figure 
 more closely, I discern some merit in it. 
 But if the sculptor ever thought he could 
 attain perfection, he was a fool for his 
 pains. Of course you know the name of 
 the artist ? " 
 
 '' We endeavoured," said Father Sebas- 
 tian, " to obtain it from the captain who 
 took the commission from us, but he said 
 the sculptor stipulated that his name 
 should not be mentioned."
 
 90 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 " The modest fool." 
 
 " Nay, eccentric, mayhap," said Father 
 Sebastian, ''but he did not desire entire 
 obscurity. Here you see is an H cut in 
 the marble." 
 
 " It might stand for Harold," said Mau- 
 vain's friend, "in which case Harold might 
 stand for an idiot. But the day is waning. 
 I must bring you Mauvain's charge before 
 sundown.'* 
 
 He made his way at once to the schooner, 
 and in due time returned with the cargo 
 consigned by Mauvain to the inhabitants 
 of the Silver Isle : a child scarcely three 
 years of age, and a man, deformed and 
 ungainly, not more than four feet in height. 
 The child gazed about in delight, seeking 
 what was beautiful, and prepared to enjoy 
 it. The dwarf gazed about in distrust, 
 seeking for what was hidden beneath 
 the surface, and prepared to condemn it, 
 unseen. 
 
 The islanders were but little prepared 
 for such a consignment, and their looks 
 expressed their astonishment. One half of 
 the charge entrusted to them by Mauvain 
 was of metal so attractive ^s from its own 
 grace and beauty to ensure a welcome ;
 
 In a Silver Sea, 91 
 
 of the other half not so much could be 
 said. 
 
 " What kind of being is this," thought 
 the islanders, as the dwarf stood among 
 them, peering this way and that, '' and 
 what kind of soul can live in such a 
 body ? " 
 
 '' What kind of men and women are 
 these ? " thouo^ht the dwarf. " Like their 
 fellows, I doubt not. Fair face — false 
 heart." 
 
 Thus at once was engendered between 
 them a feeling of antagonism. 
 
 "I told you," said Harold, who had 
 observed, with an amused smile, the manner 
 in which Mauvain's trust was received, 
 " that the consignment could speak for 
 itself. It is veritably human in shape. It 
 cries when it is hurt, and laughs when it 
 is tickled." 
 
 The misshapen dwarf took no apparent 
 heed of Harold's words ; he stood regard- 
 ing the islanders with a frown upon his 
 face. 
 
 " Well ? " he questioned of Father Sebas- 
 tian. 
 
 "What would you have, friend?" in- 
 quired Father Sebastian.
 
 92 hi a Silver Sea, 
 
 " Civility." 
 
 '' We have spoken no word concerning 
 
 you." 
 
 •' Not with your tongues ; but with your 
 eyes. You received a letter from Mauvain. 
 Has it not explained matters ? " 
 
 *' Not fully. To speak frankly—" 
 
 " Aye, do. It will be agreeable — and 
 novel." 
 
 '' We are surprised, and we would make 
 sure." 
 
 "What surprises you?" sneered the 
 dwarf. " My shape ? It surprised me 
 when I first understood it and compared 
 it with other men^s. And of what would 
 you make sure ? Whether this little maid 
 and I come from Mauvain ? " 
 
 " Yes, we would be assured of that." 
 
 ''Leave my evidence out. Crooked 
 body, crooked words. Speak you, sculp- 
 tor Harold, and say whether we are here 
 under false pretence or not." 
 
 " This man and this child," said Harold, 
 " represent the delicate commission I was 
 entrusted with, and promised to execute. 
 Of one part of it I am glad to be rid; the 
 other I could put up with a while longer. 
 You seem not to be prepared for such
 
 In a Silver Sea. 93 
 
 a consignment. It will grieve Mauvain to 
 the heart — " 
 
 " Eh ? " interrupted the dwarf, " where 
 will it grieve him ? ' ' 
 
 " To the heart," continued Harold, with 
 imperturbable good-humour, '' if he finds 
 there is any difficulty." 
 
 "There shall be no difficulty," said 
 Father Sebastian, after a short pause. 
 " Leave this singularly assorted pair. We 
 are content." 
 
 " Not so am I," exclaimed the dwarf : 
 " there is something more to be said. 
 The little maid is in my care. Learn for 
 yourselves whether the association is 
 repugnant to her." He dropped the pretty 
 hand he had held in his, and he stepped 
 back a few paces from the child. She 
 looked at him inquiringly, then ran 
 towards him, and with a confiding motion 
 placed her arms round his neck. He 
 smoothed her hair, and gently patted her 
 cheek. *' We do not stay here without a 
 fair and honest welcome." 
 
 " How shall we call you, friend ? " 
 
 "As others call me. Ranf." 
 
 " We are not desirous of harbouring 
 any that are not of our kith and kin ; but
 
 94 -^^ ^ Silver Sea, 
 
 Mauyain has a claim upon us, wliich we 
 are glad to recognize. You are free of 
 the Silver Isle, you and your little maid. 
 We give you both honest welcome. Are 
 you content now ? " 
 
 " Aye — as far as my nature goes." 
 
 Father Sebastian stooped and kissed the 
 child. " What is your name, pretty one ? " 
 
 "Evangeline." 
 
 The reply excited a strange feeling of 
 interest. No other female in the isle had 
 borne the name since the death of that 
 Evangeline whose statue adorned the 
 market-place. 
 
 The child smiled; her smile was like 
 sunlight. Short light-brown curls hung 
 down to her shoulders. Her brown eyes 
 looked innocently into theirs. No hard 
 task to welcome such a visitor ; already 
 had the new Evangeline won the hearts of 
 the islanders. 
 
 Father Sebastian turned to Ranf, and 
 said, — 
 
 '' I perceive no likeness between you 
 and this little maid." 
 
 " Why should there be ? Ah ! I see 
 your thought. But it will not stand the 
 test of reason."
 
 hi a Silver Sea. 95 
 
 " Is tlie child an orphan, then, seeing 
 that she is here unattended by blood kith 
 or kin?" 
 
 " Accept her as such," replied Ranf. 
 " The more likely are you to be bound to 
 her by ties of affection, if they happen to 
 grow between you ; the more likely is she 
 to be bound to you in the same way. Say 
 to Mauvain," he continued, addressing 
 Harold, " that we are content to stay upon 
 this isle, and that we are as glad to be 
 quit of you as you are to be quit of me." 
 
 "Your message shall be delivered," said 
 Harold gaily, " word for word. Princess 
 of the Silver Isle, I kiss your fairy 
 fingers." 
 
 He waved his hand to Father Sebastian 
 in token of adieu, and turned towards the 
 shore, where his boat was waiting for him. 
 Before midnight the schooner, gliding 
 through the luminous track of moonlight 
 on the sea, disappeared from the sight of 
 the islanders.
 
 96 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Fair and litlie and graceful was Evange- 
 line ; as beautiful as the Evangeline of old, 
 between whom and the child committed 
 to their care the islanders grew to believe 
 there was in some strange way a spiritual 
 connection. Their first duty was to decide 
 in whose charge Evangeline should be 
 placed. They feared that Eanf would 
 claim her, and it was a relief to them when 
 he said he intended to live alone and to 
 shift for himself. It appeared to the 
 islanders to accord with the fitness of things 
 that Evangeline's childhood should be 
 passed in the house owned by Mauvain. It 
 was occupied by a family named Sylvester, 
 and Evangeline, adopted by universal con- 
 sent as the child of the Silver Isle, was 
 received by the Sylvesters as a member of 
 their family.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 97. 
 
 Her friendsliip for such a being as Ranf , 
 was to tlie islanders the strangest of 
 enigmas. He whom all men avoided and 
 who avoided all men, to whom no woman 
 held out the hand of friendship, and 
 who neither courted nor desired friendly 
 communion, was the last person in the 
 world the islanders would have chosen as 
 the friend of Evangeline. But she had 
 pretty wilful ways against which their 
 strongest persuasions were powerless. In 
 vain they sought to woo her from Ranf , be- 
 lieving, as they conscientiously did, that the 
 association was harmful to her. Despite 
 their entreaties ai:id remonstrances, she was 
 staunch and true to the cripple, whose 
 misshapen features assumed a tender 
 expression in the light of her beautiful 
 smile. The islanders never beheld Ranf 
 in this aspect. When he descended to the 
 valleys, as he was compelled to do occa- 
 sionally for provisions, they saw a morose, 
 ill-featured man, deformed in body, short, 
 crooked, and surly-mannered, who gave 
 back three frowns for one, and paid cold 
 words and looks with bitter interest. If 
 anything could have added to the horror 
 entertained by the islanders towards the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 mountain of snow, it was its adoption by 
 Ranf as his home. He built upon it three 
 huts at various points : the first a few 
 hundred feet above the altitude of the 
 valleys, the second in the mid-distance, the 
 third very near to the topmost peak. The 
 life he led there, having for his companions 
 only goats and birds and dogs, was in fit ac- 
 cordance with his morose moods. Nature 
 had inclosed his evil mind in a deformed 
 case, so that he should be less able to impose 
 upon his fellows. His constant presence 
 among them would have been a calamity ; 
 it was well, therefore, that he should have 
 chosen the fateful mountain for his dwell- 
 ing-place. Next to the misfortune of being 
 compelled to submit to his residence on 
 the isle (for although their word was given, 
 they chafed at the infliction), it was what 
 they would most have desired. This was 
 the judgment of the islanders upon Ranf 
 the deformed. 
 
 The judgment was a growth, and was 
 formed from direct evidence. It would 
 undoubtedly have been a difficult matter 
 for the inhabitants of the Silver Isle to 
 have entertained immediately cordial rela- 
 tions towards one whose outward shape
 
 In a Silver Sea, 99 
 
 was as ungainly as liis manners were un- 
 couth, and whose physical malformation 
 was not counterbalanced by mental grace 
 or sweetness. But the islanders were just 
 men, and in the course of time, had Ranf 
 cared to conciliate them and win their 
 favour and good words, their sense of 
 justice would have been stronger than 
 their instinctive aversion. They might 
 have been moved to exercise the rare 
 virtue of ascertaining what was good in a 
 man who possessed no outward recommen- 
 dation, and giving him credit for it, instead 
 of the common human failing of magnifying 
 what was repulsive and condemning him 
 for it. To this better end, it was neces- 
 sary that they should have an insight into 
 Eanf's inner nature. He supplied them 
 with material. He had a full appreciation 
 of the manner in which he had been 
 received upon his first appearance in the 
 Silver Isle, and he took a malicious plea- 
 sure in exhibiting his worst qualities in 
 their worst light. He allowed his hair 
 to grow wild, he exaggerated his natural 
 deformities, he delighted in uncouth ges- 
 tures, he sneered at the simple customs 
 of the islanders, and in a general way he 
 H 2
 
 TOO In a Silver Sea. 
 
 played into the hands of their prejudices. 
 The mutual resentment thus engendered 
 grew stronger as the weeks and the months 
 passed by. 
 
 The first serious impression against Ranf 
 was produced on his first Sabbath in the 
 Silver Isle. It was a day sacredly observed 
 by the islanders — a day of rest and reli- 
 gious contemplation, upon which only the 
 simplest and most innocent pleasures were 
 permitted. The hour for prayers had 
 arrived ; the church in the valley was full, 
 but Eanf was not among the worshippers. 
 The islanders spoke of the circumstance 
 gravely, and addressed the minister upon 
 the subject. He sought Ranf, and gently 
 admonished him. Ranf opened his eyes 
 wide. 
 
 " How old are you, minister ? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "I have lived forty years," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "And I a year longer," said Ranf, 
 '' therefore my judgmen.t is likely to be as 
 ripe as yours. As ripe ! Forty times 
 riper, I should say, for every year of my 
 life has in its experiences been equal to 
 those of forty years in the lives of ordinary
 
 In a Silver Sea. loi 
 
 men. Look upon me, minister. You see 
 a man cut out of the natural mould. 
 Something is passing through your mind 
 with reference to me. What is it ? " 
 
 " Pity." 
 
 ''But I don't ask you for it. What! 
 Shall I beg for it, of you and other men, 
 by whining of my deformity, and then be 
 grateful to those who give, and humble to 
 those who mock me for a misfortune I 
 could not avert ? Pity ? Give it to your 
 dogs ! What want you of me ? " 
 
 '' You have come to live among us.'* 
 
 ''Well?" 
 
 " We wish you to be as other men — " 
 
 Ranf interrupted him quickly. "But 
 I am not as other men. Can you 
 straighten my body? " 
 
 " It is out of my power." 
 
 "Not being able to do that, are you 
 mad enough to think you can straighten 
 that part of me which you cannot see ? 
 Are the men in this isle gifted with 
 spiritual insight, and with miraculous 
 power of healing mental wounds ? Then 
 they are more than mortal." 
 
 " You have suffered in the past," said 
 the priest in a tone of compassion.
 
 I02 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Ean£ smiled scornfully. " Truly I have 
 memories. A sleeping child, lying before 
 me like a new-born flower. A sleeping 
 woman, never again to open mortal eye 
 upon the world. Memories ? Aye, they 
 live within me, never to be forgotten. 
 Here is a bare waste — and here some 
 streams of blood which time has not 
 dried np — and here a patch of flowers, not 
 yet quite withered ! " 
 
 " Look forward, upward ! " cried the 
 priest, pointing earnestly to the fair sky 
 above. 
 
 Ranf's malicious eyes followed the 
 direction of the priest's hand. 
 
 " I have farther to look than you," he 
 said, " bemg some inches lower. What 
 do you see there ? " 
 
 " God is there." 
 
 " I ask you what you see, and you 
 answer with a platitude — a foundation of 
 shadow upon which priests erect reliefs 
 of various shapes and colours, each one of 
 which gives the lie to the others. God is 
 here ! " and Ranf, stooping to the ground, 
 plucked a blade of grass, and held it in his 
 open palm. " Here is surer evidence of 
 Nature's wondrous work. I prefer to
 
 In a Silver Sea. 103 
 
 look downwards. Earth is sweeter than 
 vapour. I have come to live upon this 
 isle. True. How have I been received ? 
 With pleasant looks and words of welcome ? 
 Your men avoid me, your women fly from 
 me, your children are being taught by 
 example to look upon me with aversion. 
 I have heard that on this isle you boast of 
 exercising an even-handed justice. It is 
 a boast, neither more nor less. For what 
 kind of justice is that which declares, 
 knowing nothing of me except what is 
 seen and what I would rid myself of if I 
 could, that I am unfit to associate with 
 the clean-limbed men of the Silver Isle ? 
 Ah, you are rare justice-mongers ! Take 
 scorn for scorn. I give it — full mea- 
 sure ! " 
 
 '' Can I do nothing to soften you ? " 
 asked the priest, distressed by Ranf's 
 bitter words. 
 
 "Minister," said Ranf with mock 
 humility, " my mind, alas ! is as twisted 
 as my body. It is entangled with doubts. 
 I have no reverence ; I have no faith ; I 
 have no creed by which I can juggle 
 myself into the belief that I am a saint." 
 
 '' It would be an arrogant belief, in you
 
 104 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 or any. You need enlightenment. "We 
 ask you to worship with us ; we will pray 
 for you." 
 
 " And if your prayers succeed, there 
 will be hope that I may mount to heaven 
 upon the back of a better-shaped man 
 than myself! Truly, this is an isle of 
 self-sacrifice ! Do you lose sight of your 
 own salvation ? Which, let me tell you, 
 needs all the prayers that you can pray. 
 And for my sake ! For the sake of such 
 a man as I!" He twirled grotesquely 
 before the priest, and contorted his 
 features. " Let the job alone, minister. 
 You never saw an angel of my shape, in 
 dream or picture. You make your angels 
 sleek and trim, in a mould as beautiful as 
 it is false." 
 
 *' You speak," said the priest sadly, "as 
 one without religion." 
 
 Ranf waved his hands around and above 
 him with comprehensive gesture. '' Here 
 is my religion," he rejoined, " and here 
 my church. I need no human teachers. 
 I set no creed for you ; set none for me."
 
 hi a Silver Sea, 105 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 THE RETUEN OF THE WANDEEEES. 
 
 The Sylvesters were five in family, and 
 represented three generations : Matthew 
 Sylvester, a man in his sixth decade, his 
 son Paul, Paul's wife Margaret, and their 
 two children, Joseph and Gabrielle. Upon 
 Evangeline's introduction into the house- 
 hold, Joseph was seven and Gabrielle four 
 years of age. 
 
 That Evangeline should find a home in 
 the house which by right belonged to 
 Mauvain was natural and just. But the 
 idea did not emanate from the islanders ; 
 the first suggestion of such an arrange- 
 ment came from Margaret Sylvester. 
 The moment the woman saw Evangeline 
 she implored to be allowed to adopt the 
 child as her own, and as she was a good 
 wife and a good mother, and was sup- 
 ported in her wish by Paul and Matthew
 
 1 06 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Sylvester, there could be no reasonable 
 opposition to the offer. Ranf, also, had a 
 voice in the matter. He made it known 
 that, although he intended to shift for 
 himself and to live apart from the islanders, 
 he expected to be satisfied with the home 
 selected for Evangeline. " I shall not 
 trouble the woman who takes charge of 
 her," he said, " but I must see that she is 
 one who is not likely from caprice to deny 
 me the right of seeing the child when I 
 desire." He visited the Sylvester family 
 once only, using his eyes more than his 
 tongue, and after exchanging a few words 
 with Margaret, expressed himself satisfied. 
 The history of the elder members of the 
 Sylvester family was strange and romantic, 
 and differed from that of most of the 
 residents of the Silver Isle. Matthew 
 Sylvester, born upon the isle, and marrying 
 when he was twenty-five years of age, lived 
 in apparent contentment until he lost his 
 wife. When tliis misfortune fell upon him 
 he became restless, and his eyes wandered 
 seawards with an eager longing in them ; 
 and opportunity offering, he announced his 
 intention of leaving the isle. There was 
 no restraint upon the movements of the
 
 hi a Silver Sea, 107 
 
 inhabitants ; every man was free to go and 
 come as lie pleased; but in the event of one 
 leaving and returning after a lapse of years 
 lie seldom regained his place among his 
 fellows. It was expected that he should give 
 an account of the manner of his life during 
 his absence, and it generally happened that 
 the story of adventure contained episodes 
 which, being slurred over, produced in the 
 minds of his hearers a suspicion that 
 something was being concealed from their 
 knowledge which was not to the wanderer's 
 credit. Under any circumstances the 
 experiences he was supposed to have ac- 
 quired in the outer world did not tell in his 
 favour. It was as though he had passed 
 through the fire, and had not been purified. 
 In their relations to the land, as a people, 
 the islanders were thoroughly conservative. 
 It was not exactly regarded as disloyal for 
 a man to leave the country of his birth, but 
 it most surely weakened the tie by which he 
 was bound to his comrades. 
 
 Matthew Sylvester was left a widower 
 with one child, Paul ; and the islanders, by 
 whom he was loved for his open, generous 
 ways, and for a certain gay freedom of 
 manner which distinguished him from the
 
 io8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 throng of men, endeavoured to dissuade 
 him from his intention of leaving the isle ; 
 but when they saw that he was determined 
 to go, they discontinued their endeavours 
 to turn him from his purpose. 
 
 " You may make your mind easy about 
 your son," they said ; '' he shall be pro- 
 perly brought up, and shall be taught to 
 bear you in loving remembrance. The 
 thought of him may bring you back to 
 
 us." 
 
 '' I intend to take my son with me," 
 Matthew replied. 
 
 They expostulated with him. '' A child 
 needs a woman's care, and our women are 
 ready to receive your boy." 
 
 Again they found Matthew stubborn ; ho 
 refused to part with Paul, saying, — 
 
 '' I must have something to love. A 
 man cannot live a healthy life upon 
 dreams." 
 
 The islanders were not word-wasters ; 
 what they said they meant. Yea was yea, 
 and nay was nay. They bade Matthew 
 God-speed, and he wandered with his son 
 into the unknown world. 
 
 He was absent for twenty years, during 
 which time the islanders heard nothing of
 
 Ill a Silver Sea. 109 
 
 bim. Suddenly, without announcement or 
 forewarning, lie returned, and with him his 
 son Paul, now grown to strong manhood. 
 They were accompanied by a young and 
 attractive woman, Paul's wife, Margaret, 
 in appearance like a gipsy. It was not 
 only she, with her dark skin and flashing 
 eyes, who bore the gipsy stamp ; the two 
 men were embrowned by the sun, and had 
 a free air of travel upon them. The evi- 
 dences of an adventurous life were clearly 
 apparent; their clothes were stained and 
 worn, and there was more colour in them 
 than the islanders were accustomed to; 
 they wore their hats jauntily, and their 
 voices were loud and merry. The islanders 
 scarcely knew the Sylvesters at first, 
 so long a time had elapsed since their 
 departure from the isle. But Matthew 
 soon brought himself to the remembrance 
 of old friends, and shook hands heartily 
 with them, as did Paul, without any re- 
 straint of manner, although every face he 
 saw was strange to him. Their gay bear- 
 ing produced a curious effect upon the 
 islanders. It jarred a little, and yet was 
 not displeasing. 
 
 '' We have thought of you often/' said
 
 I lO In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Matthew's friends, "and wondered espe- 
 cially wliat had become of your little son." 
 
 " No longer little," responded Matthew, 
 " a man in heart and inches. This is his 
 wife, Margaret." 
 
 The islanders saluted the woman with 
 grave courtesy ; their decision respecting 
 her had yet to be made. Their own people 
 had a claim upon them, and a common 
 right to live among them ; they belonged 
 to the soil. But something must be known 
 of the stranger before they could hold out 
 the hand of friendship to her. 
 
 Their grave manner did not discompose 
 Margaret. She returned their salutation 
 with rough grace, and absently, her mind 
 being occupied. She was thinking whether 
 a life in this fair and lovely isle would be 
 suitable to her. It was not for the inhabi- 
 tants to welcome her ; it was for her to 
 welcome them. 
 
 One enduring impression the isle always 
 produced upon those who breathed its air 
 — an impression of perfect restfulness and 
 peace. Often, during the fever of his busy 
 life in the great world, had it stolen upon 
 Matthew with soothing effect. Through 
 the glare and turmoil had come the soft
 
 /;/ a Silver Sea. 1 1 1 
 
 lapping of the NYaves and the moYement 
 of idle clouds, as he had heard and seen 
 them in his younger days, and the memory 
 never failed to bring relief to his jaded 
 mind. 
 
 '' Is it your intention to stay for good 
 with us ? " asked Matthew's friends. 
 
 ''If we stay," replied Matthew, " I hope 
 it will be for good. The world has not 
 been kind to us ; we wooed it, and flattered 
 it in a cunning way, but the points of our 
 quills were not sharp enough ; and I fancy 
 our skins were too tender. We have taken 
 our part, and have received hard knocks. 
 You see, friends, in the world one cannot 
 live upon nothing. A little Tvould do, for 
 the life is adventurous, and there's move- 
 ment in it. What puts spice into the days 
 is their uncertainty, but it is possible to 
 have too much of this spice. We had 
 occasionally, and it kept us awake. This 
 was necessary, for where we have been, it 
 is next door to death to sleep too long ; in 
 an hour you are forgotten, and another 
 takes your place. We knew it, and were 
 always on the move, trying to climb the 
 ladder, mounting one step and slipping 
 down two. It generally happens, and no
 
 112 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 one to give you a hand. For all that, we 
 were not fools. Wait, we will show you 
 something; Margaret has a rare gift. 
 Sing." 
 
 Thereupon Margaret lifted up her voice, 
 and sang a melody that sounded like the 
 music of birds. The song was in keeping 
 with the scene — the blue and white clouds, 
 the shining water, the fragrant air, all 
 were in harmony with Margaret's voice. 
 It was strange to hear this strong, large- 
 limbed, swarthy-faced woman sing notes 
 as soft and sweet as ever issued from 
 a linnet's throat. The islanders were 
 charmed; and all discordant impressions 
 produced by the unaccustomed licence of 
 Matthew's speech instantly vanished. 
 
 '' Will you believe," continued Matthew, 
 when the song was ended, " that such a 
 voice was not magical enough to fill our 
 pockets? What is wanted outside the 
 girdle of these silver waves is arrogance, 
 and strut, and clang, the natural capital 
 of brazen braggarts, who bellow sweeter 
 talents into obscurity. Let me tell you. 
 Paul here was a man, two-and-twenty. 
 He and I had been not only father and son 
 to each other, we had been friends, lovers
 
 In a Silver Sea. 113 
 
 almost, heart-and-soul companions — com- 
 rades in the truest sense. We were never 
 parted ; we shared and shared alike. We 
 had slept in garrets, in cellars, in hovels, in 
 palaces — aye, friends, it is true — in forests 
 and barns, and Heaven knows where and 
 how. We had feasted and starved, had 
 been courted and laughed at, bowed to and 
 buffeted. Oh, there was colour enough ; 
 we never lacked variety. Sometimes for- 
 tune smiled upon us, and we saw golden 
 clouds and fairy ships riding on them ; 
 sometimes fortune frowned upon us, and 
 the rain poured down. Ugh! how it 
 soaked through our clothes to our skins ! 
 But it always passed away, this discomfort, 
 and we were again as happy as harmless 
 busy days can make a man. For look you, 
 friends, we did no man or woman harm. 
 By good or bad luck we had not learnt to 
 cheat or lie. We simply trudged along 
 the road of life together, boy and man, 
 and laughed when we could — and made 
 others laugh sometimes — and did not 
 always cry when the stones cut our feet. 
 So I grew older, and Paul grew younger ; 
 for that is the way of life until we reach 
 the turning-point, which I had passed 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ^^ ^ Silver Sea. 
 
 when Paul became a man. He was two- 
 and-twenty, young enough for love. We 
 happened to have money in our pockets, 
 enough for the day, and, making for a 
 certain town, our road lay through a 
 forest.'^ 
 
 At this point he suddenly stopped, and 
 said, — 
 
 " What follows is not for every ear. To 
 three of my oldest friends whom I see 
 among you " — he indicated them by name 
 — " I will relate the conclusion of my 
 story. If they express themselves satisfied, 
 it will, unless the ways of the isle are 
 altered, be sufficient to convince you that 
 the daughter I have brought with me is 
 worthy of your love and confidence. You 
 see, Margaret," he said, turning to the 
 woman, " we must comply with the un- 
 written laws of the isle. You have won 
 favour by your singing, but that is a trick ; 
 it will be best to win a welcome upon more 
 solid grounds than a woman's tuneful 
 voice." 
 
 '' They have to approve of me first ? " 
 questioned the woman thoughtfully. 
 
 " It is not the most gracious way of 
 putting it."
 
 Ill a Silver Sea, 1 15 
 
 '' But it is the straight way," quickly 
 interrupted Margaret. 
 
 " Yes, it is the straight way. You are 
 right, Margaret." 
 
 " Do not forget," said Margaret then, 
 " that I have also to approve of them," 
 with a nod in the direction of the islanders 
 who were grouped around. " If I do not 
 like them, I shall not care to stay." 
 
 The islanders expressed approval of her 
 words, and one said, " That is honestly 
 spoken." 
 
 '* J^or," added the woman, "shall I care 
 to stay unless I feel they are glad to have 
 me." 
 
 "They will be glad," said Matthew. 
 " Our first concern is to know who will 
 give us shelter till the matter is decided." 
 
 A dozen voices answered him at once, all 
 eagerly expressing hearty friendship and 
 good- will ; and Matthew, laughing, was 
 about to accept the offer most agreeable 
 to him, when Margaret held up her hand 
 and checked him. "Have you not," she 
 asked, " an empty house or shed — either 
 will do — which we can occupy till all of 
 us have made up our minds about each 
 other?" 
 
 I 2
 
 1 1 6 III a Silver Sea, 
 
 They fell in with her mood, admiring 
 her independent spirit. Man vain' s house 
 was unoccupied, and being furnished, was 
 ready to receive a tenant. The islanders 
 offered it to Matthew Sylvester, who ac- 
 cepted it. He had not returned to the Silver 
 Isle empty-handed. Boxes filled with all 
 kinds of paraphernalia, cages containing 
 strange birds, with many curious oddments, 
 lay about the beach. These were removed 
 into Mauvain's house, and in the evening, 
 while Margaret was busy setting the place 
 in order — for even if they did not take up 
 their residence on the isle, they would have 
 to wait for a ship to bear them away — 
 Matthew Sylvester, closeted with the 
 friends he had named, concluded the story 
 of his adventures.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 1 1 7 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE STOEY OF MAEGAEET SYLVESTEE. 
 
 "What I have to tell you," said Matthew 
 to his friends, "relates chiefly to Margaret, 
 and I would not have her know you are 
 acquainted with her story. Therefore I 
 confide it to your keeping, and yours only, 
 of all the men and women on the isle. 
 Although twenty years of a wandering life 
 may alter a man's ways and mode of speech, 
 it will scarcely change his inner being. 
 Once a fool, always a fool ; once a rogue, 
 always a rogue ; and if I was ever worthy 
 of your confidence, I am worthy of it now. 
 It stands to reason. In matters of right 
 and wrong we travel along the currents of 
 life in harmony with our instincts, and our 
 course is generally as we shape it. There 
 is luck, certainly, and my boat may glide 
 into a golden harbour, while yours may be 
 dashed to pieces in the rapids. Those are
 
 1 1 8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 the exceptions ; the rule is, accordiDg to 
 one's inheritance and one's own endeavour. 
 
 "So much for my preamble. 
 
 " I left off as we were making our way, 
 Paul and I, to a certain town, the road to 
 which lay through a forest. Paul, not so 
 strong as I, having had a spell of fever upon 
 him, grew wearied when within half a mile 
 of our destination. Observing his fatigue, 
 and that his lips were parched, I bade him 
 rest while I sought a spring of fresh water. 
 
 " I wandered into the recesses of the 
 forest before I found what I was in search 
 of, and then I filled my flask at a clear 
 cold spring, and hastened back by a nearer 
 path. I had occasion to pass a spot where 
 the trees were thickly clustered, and 
 before I had left them behind me I heard 
 the voice of a girl, sobbing. I could not 
 run from a sound that expressed both 
 physical and mental pain, so I walked in 
 the direction of the sobs, and, entering 
 the thicket of trees, saw a young woman 
 sitting on the ground by the side of a 
 sleeping man. The man was older than 
 the girl by forty years. He looked a 
 vagabond from head to foot, while the 
 girl, scarcely eighteen years of age, as I
 
 In a Silver Sea, 1 1 9 
 
 judged, appeared to be cut out for some- 
 tliiug better. The only point of resem- 
 blance between them was in their clothes, 
 which had seen much better days. For 
 the matter of that, we were but little 
 better off. 
 
 *' The girl was Margaret. She seemed 
 to be frightened at my appearance, and 
 she placed her finger to her lips, entreating 
 me in that action not to awaken her 
 companion. 
 
 '' ' Have you water there ? ' she asked 
 in a whisper, pointing to my flask. 
 
 " I handed her the flask, and she drank. 
 It struck me that she might be in want of 
 food as well as drink, and I took some 
 bread from my wallet, and offered it to 
 her. She accepted it with gratitude, and 
 began to eat it hurriedly. 
 
 " Now, friends, you will discover, if you 
 have not done so already, that the beauty 
 of Margaret is not of a kind to win affec- 
 tion off-hand. Looking at her for the 
 first time with a careless eye, she not 
 being in a special manner recommended 
 to your favour, you see a woman with 
 flashing eyes, and brown skin, and features 
 that appear larger than are supposed to
 
 I20 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 be womanly. Nature has built her on a 
 grand scale, and as a rule such women as 
 she, although they immediately attract the 
 eye, do not so soon engage the affections. 
 But Margaret gains upon you after a little, 
 and a tenderness comes into her face 
 which you had not at first observed. The 
 true soul of the woman is, as it were, 
 hidden behind a veil, and does not in- 
 stantly reveal itself. 
 
 " Something of what I have endeavoured 
 to convey to you I experienced as I stood 
 looking down upon Margaret as she ate 
 and drank. The man was a coarse- 
 grained, ill-featured fellow, but there 
 was power of a dangerous kind in him, 
 apparent even in his sleep. 
 
 " ' Can I render you any further ser- 
 vice ? ' I asked of Margaret, as she gave 
 me back my flask. 
 
 " ' No,' she replied, ' except to go at 
 once before he wakes. Take my thanks 
 with you.' 
 
 " ' What were you sobbing so bitterly 
 for ? ' I asked. 
 
 " She answered me evasively, saying it 
 was natural she should cry, being hungry. 
 
 " I shook my head ; I saw that her
 
 In a Silver Sea, 1 2 1 
 
 grief lay deeper tlian hunger. Tlie man 
 moved uneasily in his sleep, and fearing 
 that I might get Margaret into trouble, I 
 left her hastily. 
 
 " Paul and I reached the town for which 
 we were bound, and put up at an inn, not 
 more than a mile from the forest. We 
 retired early to rest, intending to be early 
 afoot on the following morning. Paul 
 was soon asleep, but I was kept awake by 
 thought of Margaret. The face of the 
 sorrowing girl haunted me ; I seemed to 
 hear her sobs, and in the darkened room I 
 saw the dim outlines of her figure as she 
 sat by the sleeping man in the forest. I 
 did what might be considered a mad 
 thing ; but I am generally swayed by 
 impulse. I rose from my bed, dressed 
 myself quietly, so as not to disturb Paul, 
 and crept softly out of the room. With 
 no clear purpose in my mind, except to see 
 if Margaret had left the forest, I made my 
 way to the thicket of trees which had 
 concealed her from observation. I found 
 her still there. This time she was alone, 
 lying on the ground asleep, her head 
 resting on the outspreading roots of a 
 tree. As I gazed upon her she awoke.
 
 122 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 and, alarmed at the presence of a stranger, 
 struggled to her feet. I soon relieved her 
 mind, telling her I came as a friend, and 
 that it appeared to me she required one. 
 Why, I asked, was she sleeping in the 
 forest without protection ? 
 
 '' ' I am safe here,' she said ; ' no one will 
 harm me.' 
 
 " ' Where is the man I saw with you 
 this afternoon ? ' 
 
 " ' Gone iato the town, to endeavour to 
 obtain food or money.' 
 
 " ' You are poor, then ? ' 
 
 " She nodded. 
 
 " * And hungry still ? ' 
 
 '' She nodded again. 
 
 " I could not give her food, as I had 
 brought none with me, but I told her if 
 she would accompany me to the inn, I 
 would pay for food and shelter for her. 
 She thanked me, but said she could not 
 go, and I perceived that a secret motive 
 held her back. The reason why I was so 
 free in my offers, without consideration 
 for the man, was that I felt certain there 
 was no bond of relationship between him 
 and her. The tone in which she spoke 
 of him was a sufficient indication ; it ex-
 
 In a Silver Sea. 123 
 
 pressed repugnance, hate almost, and 
 something of fear. Questioning Margaret, 
 I found that mj idea was correct ; they 
 were not in any way related to each other. 
 I asked her why she remained with him, 
 then. She replied that she had a motive, 
 a powerful, passionate, absorbing motive, 
 which prevented her from leaving him 
 until a person she was in search of was 
 restored to her. She was not married ; 
 she had never loved. Who, then, was the 
 person to whom she vaguely alluded, in a 
 voice broken by sobs, and in a manner 
 which betokened how deeply her heart was 
 engaged in the quest ? I took some pains 
 to convince Margaret that my desire to 
 assist and befriend her was an unselfish 
 one, and was prompted solely by pity for 
 her forlorn condition. 
 
 *' ' My son and I,' said I, ' are sometimes 
 as poor as you, but we might be able to 
 aid you. I see that you lead a wandering 
 life. So do we. We are actors in a small 
 way, and are travelling continually about.' 
 
 " She interrupted me eagerly. It 
 seemed, she said, as if Heaven had sent 
 me to her. She asked me if in our wan- 
 derings, or in any travelling company we
 
 124 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 had been associated with, I had seen a 
 girl of her own age, resembling her in 
 features, but fairer than she, and smaller 
 in stature ? She described tb e girl to me, 
 most minutely — the shape of her hands, 
 the colour of her eyes and hair, the beauty 
 of her teeth, lips, ears, dimples, finger- 
 nails, eye-lashes — not a point by which 
 the girl could be in some way identified 
 was omitted ; and as Margaret proceeded 
 with her description of this creature, 
 whom it was plain she loved with all the 
 strength of her nature, she trembled, and 
 sobbed, and suffered as only those suffer 
 who have lost one dearer than life itself.
 
 In a Silver Sea. i 25 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 MARGAEET AND CLAEICE. 
 
 " The girl she described must have been 
 wondrously beautiful, and once seen, could 
 scarcely have been forgotten. I had not 
 met with her, and I told Margaret so, and 
 having heard so much, I easily prevailed 
 upon her to relate to me all the particulars 
 of her trouble. The girl of whom she was 
 in search was her twin-sister, but resem- 
 bling her only in the shape and form of her 
 features. Their father led such a life as I 
 and Paul were leading; he was an educated 
 man, but poor and fond of wandering. He 
 travelled — his wife being dead — for years 
 through many countries, accompanied by 
 his children. 
 
 " ' He loved us devotedly,' said Mar- 
 garet, ' and we were most happy with him. 
 He taught us to play comedies, and, indeed, 
 wrote pieces to suit us, and we acted them
 
 126 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 to simple people in villages and small towns. 
 We did not perform in large cities. My 
 father appeared to avoid tliem purposely, 
 and when it was necessary for ns to pass 
 through them in our travels, he made a 
 point of shunning observation. Ah, how 
 happy was our life 1 We never knew the 
 pinch of poverty, and scarcely knew what 
 care was. Clarice, my darling sister Clarice, 
 was the flower of our little garden. 
 Perhaps it was because she was so much 
 smaller than I, and looked so much 
 younger, although there were only a few 
 minutes' difference in our ages, that I looked 
 upon her as a child and upon myself as a 
 woman. Indeed, I was the mother of the 
 family, and Clarice, I believed and believe, 
 loved me as truly and faithfully as I loved 
 her. I was not jealous of her, although 
 she was always the favourite; she deserved 
 to be, for she was beautiful and gentle ; 
 while I — well, I have a temper, a little too 
 quick at times, but not bad, indeed not 
 bad ! And I am better now since I have 
 lost Clarice. I have to suffer without 
 repining, or I may never find her ! ' 
 
 '' My heart was moved to deep tender- 
 ness by Margaret's plaintive words, which
 
 In a Silver Sea, 1 2 7 
 
 expressed a world of inherent goodness 
 and unselfish love. Shortly before her 
 father's death they were joined by the man 
 who was now Margaret's companion and 
 master. Her father's health was breaking, 
 and this man, by smooth and cunning 
 ways, and by pretended tenderness to- 
 wards the girls, obtained so complete a 
 dominion over him that, shortly before his 
 death, which happened three years before 
 I met Margaret, he gave, by written legal 
 document, the control of his children into 
 the hands of the villain. 
 
 " A villain indeed he proved. The 
 orphan girls were among strangers ; 
 there was not one friend in all the wide 
 world to whom they could turn ; they had 
 no relatives, and were in the power of a 
 man whom they could neither love nor 
 respect, and who brought desolation into 
 their young lives. He drove them hither 
 and thither, and made them work and 
 dance for his profit, at all hours and in all 
 seasons, and ruled them with a rod of iron. 
 
 '^ I will give you the rest of Margaret's 
 story in Margaret's own words. I wrote 
 it as she in after-times narrated it to me. 
 Fancying that you hear Margaret speak,
 
 128 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 you will be better able to form a proper 
 idea of the nature of the woman I was 
 glad to see my son marry, and whom I 
 now declare to be worthy of your friend- 
 ship and regard." 
 
 ****** 
 
 " As for me [said Margaret] I could 
 stand such a life ; I am strong and hardy, 
 but it was different with Clarice. She 
 was delicate and fragile, and the work 
 distressed and fatigued her. While our 
 father lived, she had been our pet lamb, 
 and had never received harsh word or look. 
 She had now to endure such hardship as 
 we never supposed would have fallen to 
 her lot ; for we had mapped out a fair 
 future for her, and had indulged in bright 
 dreams of a happy wedded life, with a 
 husband who loved her as we loved her, 
 and children as fair and sweet as our own 
 dear girl. We lived in the sunlight then ; 
 now every hour was dark. 
 
 " Clarice did not complain to me, but 
 who should know her strength, and of what 
 she was capable, better than I ? And I 
 knew that the life she was now compelled 
 to live would kill her in a few years. I 
 did what I could to lighten her work,
 
 In a Silver Sea. 129 
 
 wlien our master was not watching us, 
 and I planned a sdieme of escape, wliitlier 
 I knew not, for we were driven from place 
 to place, from fair to fair, from show to 
 show, without our being aware in what 
 part of the country, and sometimes in 
 what country, we were making crowds of 
 rough people laugh and applaud. 
 
 *' The night selected for our flight 
 arrived, and Clarice and I stole away at 
 an hour past midnight, when our master 
 and all in the village were asleep. "We 
 had no money, no experience, no know- 
 ledge of the world. The only idea in my 
 mind was to escape by a road we had 
 not hitherto traversed, and to trust to 
 fortune for the rest. That the scheme 
 was wild and certain of failure did not 
 occur to me ; the one thing to be accom- 
 plished was to fly from the tyrant who 
 had brought wretchedness and misery 
 into our lives. 
 
 " The night was chosen for its darkness, 
 so that there should be less chance of our 
 being seen, and my plan was defeated in 
 its outset by this precaution. For in my 
 agitation and confusion, and having no 
 light to guide me, I missed my way, and 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 we had walked a mile in tlie wrong direc- 
 tion before I discovered my error. We 
 retraced our steps cautiously, for Clarice 
 was frightened, and cried out every 
 moment that we were being followed, and 
 she wept and trembled so, that I re- 
 proached myself bitterly for having made 
 so mad an attempt. At length Clarice 
 declared she could walk no farther, and I 
 saw that it would be cruelty to urge her. 
 We sat down mournfully by the roadside, 
 where, cradled in my arms, Clarice fell 
 asleep. We were not half a mile from the 
 village we had left, and it was inevitable 
 that we should be discovered. Some 
 villagers who had seen us perform, going 
 early to their work, caught sight of us and 
 questioned us, and with the cruel joy that 
 all men seem to feel when helpless crea- 
 tures are being hunted down, they carried 
 the news to our master that his two 
 dancing-girls were running away. He 
 hastened to us in a furious passion, and 
 dragged us before a magistrate, threat- 
 ening us on the way with most dreadful 
 penalties. 
 
 " For my own part, T think I should 
 have had the courage to defy him, but
 
 In a Silver Sea. 131 
 
 Clarice took all the strengtli out of me ; 
 the wild beating of her heart as I pressed 
 her to my side was torture to me. 
 
 " To the magistrate our master related 
 a smooth and plausible story, of the obli- 
 gations our father was under to him, of 
 the friendship that existed between them, 
 of being appointed guardian to us until 
 we were twenty-one years of age, with de- 
 tailed accounts of our acts of ingratitude 
 — all of which inventions made me quiver 
 with indignation. His story was conclu- 
 sive, my denial of its truth was received 
 with contempt, and the magistrate treated 
 us to a homily upon our monstrous con- 
 duct, telling us that we could be put into 
 prison for our disobedience and rebellion ; 
 nay, he assisted the case against us by 
 saying that he doubted not the very 
 clothes in which we ran away were the 
 property of our master, and that we could 
 be severely punished for the theft. Our 
 master replied it was true. He could 
 charge us with theft, but he would not do 
 so out of consideration for our youth, and 
 because he intended to fulfil to the best of 
 his ability the trust reposed in him by his 
 dear and dead friend, our father. He did 
 K 2
 
 132 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 not say that it would not suit his purpose 
 that we should be imprisoned. He begged 
 for our discharge, and we were released 
 with warnings and admonitions from the 
 magistrate, in whom we should rather 
 have found a friend than an enemy. 
 
 " There was no help for us ; we had 
 been given into slavery, and by a dear 
 father who would have shed his heart's 
 blood for us. But it cannot last for ever, 
 I thought. When Clarice and I are 
 women, we shall be free ; the villain will 
 no longer have power over us. Till then 
 we must submit. So I schooled myself to 
 patience. We were worked harder than 
 ever, and we must have earned a great 
 deal of money, for our performances found 
 favour wherever we went. He was 
 cunning, this master of ours. If we per- 
 formed to his satisfaction the hard tasks 
 he set for us, he gave us better food and 
 fine promises. If we did not please him, 
 or if money did not flow in plentifully, he 
 placed the coarsest fai^e before us, with 
 blows for a sauce. 
 
 " ' Cannot you see,' he said to me one 
 day, * what fools you are to thwart me ? 
 Do as I bid you, and your lives will be
 
 In a Silver Sea. 133 
 
 easy and comfortable. All I want is to 
 make money out of you.' 
 
 . " The villain had no regard for us as 
 human creatures ; he and humanity were 
 strangers, and he used us as though we 
 were his chattels, devoid of heart or 
 feeling. 
 
 "He had one consuming passion — he 
 was a gambler, and all our earnings were 
 squandered at the gaming-tables. That 
 is why we were always poor, and why he 
 never let us rest. Despite the hard life we 
 led, Clarice grew daily more beautiful; she 
 seemed to belong more to heaven than to 
 earth, and I used to gaze on her with a kind 
 of worship. No wonder she was admired 
 by the common people we played to in the 
 villages ; they had never looked upon a 
 fairer face and form. Our master had 
 the same distaste for large cities as our 
 father had ; he avoided them most care- 
 fully, an:l we wandered in out-of-the-way 
 places for eight or nine months until 
 Clarice fell ill, and, much against our 
 master's wish, we were compelled to rest 
 awhile until she recovered. 
 
 '' Durinof this time it was that I began to 
 sing to Clarice, and our master discovered
 
 134 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 I tad a musical voice whicli could be 
 turned to profitable account. It was a 
 discovery to us as well as to him; the 
 parts I played in our little comedies were 
 speaking parts, and no opportunity had 
 been afforded me of using my chief gift. 
 Coming in one night while I was singing, 
 our master bade Clarice dance to my voice. 
 She obeyed him, and as I sang she moved 
 gracefully about, in accordance with the 
 suggestion of the melody, now slowly, now 
 with spirit, and now with a sweet and 
 innocent abandon that captivated him as 
 well as me. The child had nearly re- 
 covered from her sickness, and she was 
 grateful for returning health ; her dis- 
 position was naturally gay, and her slavery 
 had not yet lasted long enough to crush 
 all joyousness out of her. There was 
 something spiritual in her movements ; 
 the room was but dimly lighted, and as she 
 glided in and out of the shadows, I was over- 
 taken by fear that she might fade from our 
 sight, and that we should see her no more. 
 
 *' ' Clarice ! ' I cried in alarm. 
 
 " She sprang towards me ; but before 
 she could reach me, our master seized her 
 in his arms.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 135 
 
 " ' You are beautiful ! ' he said in a 
 thick voice. ' I have been blind. You 
 are beautiful, Clarice ! ' 
 
 " He pressed his lips to hers, and Clarice 
 shrieked to me for protection. A sudden 
 fury animated me; a knife lay near to 
 my hand; I snatched it from the table, 
 and flew upon the villain. In a moment 
 Clarice was free, and I was striking at 
 him with the knife ; he seized my wrist, 
 and the knife fell to the ground; and then 
 with all my force I struck at his face with 
 the hand that was free. He pushed me 
 violently from him, and without a word 
 left the room. Then Clarice fell into my 
 arms, and sobbed as though her heart 
 were breaking. 
 
 " I think it was during those few agi- 
 tating moments that I became a woman. 
 I was but sixteen years of age, but my 
 girlhood came suddenly to an end, and the 
 map of a woman's life was spread before 
 me. I understood it, and prepared to 
 battle with the bitter reality. After I put 
 Clarice to bed, I picked up the knife ; there 
 was blood upon it. 
 
 " Our master did not appear again that 
 night. The next morning he said that,
 
 136 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 Clarice being better, we must be on the 
 move again. We owed him mucbj lie 
 informed us, for our weeks of idleness. I 
 glanced at his hand ; it was bandaged, and 
 there was a mark on his face. I was both 
 glad and afraid, but I was careful not to 
 exhibit the slightest symptom of fear or 
 regret. No reference was made to the 
 occurrence until the evening, when my 
 master said, striving to impart lightness 
 to his voice, — 
 
 " ' You are strong, Margaret.' 
 
 '' I replied, ' Thank God for it ! I shall 
 know how to use my strength. Be careful 
 not to provoke me.' 
 
 " That was all that passed between us, 
 and when he next spoke to Clarice, it was 
 in his usual tone, that of a master to his 
 servant. 
 
 " He did not deceive me, nor throw me 
 off my guard, and I think he was not 
 aware how often I detected him looking at 
 Clarice with a certain thoughtfulness in his 
 face which I could not rightly interpret at 
 the time. I did not let Clarice out of my 
 sight, and a little story my father use to 
 read to us of a wolf, a lamb, and a faithful 
 watch-dog sometimes crossed my mind in
 
 In a Silver Sea. 137 
 
 relation to ourselves. I was determined 
 the wolf should not hurt my lamb ; he 
 would have to tear me to pieces first. 
 
 ''I had need of all my wits. Keeping 
 watch as I did upon our master's move- 
 ments, I regarded every new and unusual 
 thing he did with suspicion. He was most 
 careful in his behaviour towards Clarice, 
 and seldom addressed her, makiug me 
 generally the medium of communication 
 between them, saying, ' Tell Clarice this, 
 or that.' A day or two after her con- 
 valescence, he remarked that her illness had 
 left her somewhat weak, and that she re- 
 quired nourishment ; and he gave us wine 
 with our dinner. We drank only a little, 
 for the wine was strong, and mounted to 
 our heads. Under its influence we both 
 laughed and talked too freely, and our 
 master appeared to be pleased with our 
 gaiety, and encouraged us to drink more, 
 filling our glasses for us with merry words. 
 But I happened to look at him as he poured 
 out the wine, and the expression of devilish 
 exultation in his face chilled and warned 
 me. I pushed the full glasses away. 
 
 " ' Come, Clarice,* I said, and we walked 
 from the room.
 
 138 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " We drank no more ; we were saved. 
 
 '' For a week wine was placed on the 
 table at every meal, but we never toucbed 
 it. 
 
 " ' You are grateful, you girls,' our 
 master said, with a surly look ; ' you 
 deserve kindness ! Why don't you drink 
 your wine ? ' 
 
 " ' We prefer water,' I replied ; * save 
 yoar money, master. You will not per- 
 suade us to love wine.' 
 
 '' ' Have your way,' he muttered in a 
 brutal tone, and raised his arm as though 
 he would have liked to strike me. But he 
 dared not ; he knew that I would no longer 
 submit tamely to his blows. 
 
 " We suffered in other ways for our 
 rebellious conduct ; but we bore all 
 patiently. 
 
 *' One night, at the end of a long day's 
 journey, we saw in the distance the lights 
 of a larger town than we were in the habit 
 of stopping at. To our inexperienced 
 eyes it looked like a fairy illumination. 
 In some parts the houses were very 
 numerous, and quite close together ; hills 
 and terraces were dotted with tiny stars ; 
 and as we neared the town I saw a sheet
 
 I 71 a Silver Sea. 139 
 
 of silver water in which the lights were 
 reflected. It was a beautiful sight. I 
 was filled with curiosity, and wondered to 
 myself what our master's purpose could 
 be. Clarice's eyes sparkled. 
 
 '' ' Are we going to stop in that place ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said our master, ' we are going 
 to play there. We shall remain a week ; 
 if you please me you shall have new 
 dresses.' 
 
 " The news set me thinking, but I had 
 no reason to suspect anything wrong. It 
 was good news, I decided ; to play in a 
 large town meant better lodgment and 
 better food for Clarice ; and I don't know 
 how it was, but I had a vague idea that in 
 such a place some one who had known our 
 father might see us and take pity on 
 us. It never happened. Something more 
 terrible did. 
 
 " The hall we were engaged to sing and 
 dance in was situated in the worst part of 
 the town, and was frequented by men and 
 by women it made me blush to come in 
 contact with. The first night's experiences 
 were a sufficient indication of the kind of 
 theatre our master had sold our services
 
 140 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 to, and I was careful that Clarice should 
 not exchange a word with a soul but 
 myself. I was curious to know what 
 particular reason had induced our master 
 to depart from his usual practice of exhi- 
 biting our talents only in small places, and 
 I learned that the town was celebrated for 
 its gambling- saloons. Here, then, was a 
 reason which I could understand, and my 
 great hope was that he would meet with 
 the gambler's usual luck, and, having lost 
 all, leave the town in disgust. The 
 common people before whom we had been 
 in the habit of performing pleased me 
 best ; they were uncultivated, it was true, 
 but in the place of their ignorance and 
 rough admiration we had now to submit 
 to the polished gaze and insidious compli- 
 ments of a set of men whose manners 
 were an offence. That they met with no 
 encouragement from us aroused the anger 
 of our master. 
 
 '' ' The place is not good enough for you, 
 eh ? ' he cried to me, on the third night of 
 our appearance at the hall. 
 
 " ' Not quite,' I replied. 
 
 " ' It will pay you to be civil to my 
 friends,' he said threateningly.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 141 
 
 '' ' Your friends do not suit us/ I 
 answered, looking him full in the face, 
 ' and if you force them upon us, we shall 
 refuse to work for you. We may obtain 
 a better kind of justice here than we have 
 hitherto met with. We may meet with 
 tender hearts that will pity us and release 
 us from a hateful bondage.' 
 
 " ' Tender hearts ! ' he sneered. ' Gen- 
 tlemen, eh ? ' 
 
 '' ' Yes,' I said, ' true gentlemen, not 
 lackeys.' 
 
 "A dark look clouded the face of the 
 wolf. 
 
 " * I will tame you yet,' he said. 
 
 *' It was our misfortune that we were 
 talked about in the town, and that Clarice's 
 beauty became the theme of general admi- 
 ration. Before the week was out, a better 
 class of men — and women too — levelled 
 their opera-glasses at us, and on the last 
 night of our engagement our master bade 
 us pack up at once. I was surprised, for 
 the proprietor of the hall wished us to 
 continue to perform, and offered our master 
 a larger sum of money for the renewal of 
 our services than had been agreed upon 
 between them. Our master told me so
 
 142 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 mucli, and took credit to Mmself for re- 
 fusing the offer. 
 
 '' ' This place is too common for such 
 delicate creatures,' he said. 'You shall 
 have better lodgment.' 
 
 " We did not leave the town ; he con- 
 veyed us to a more fashionable quarter, 
 where, to my further surprise, new dresses 
 were given to us, finer than we had ever 
 worn. Everything seemed to be prepared 
 for us, for the dresses fitted us to perfec- 
 tion. The misgivings I felt as we decked 
 ourselves out in this finery were dispelled 
 by the delight which Clarice's beautiful 
 appearance afforded me. Her dancing- 
 dress was white, with silver trimmings, 
 and was festooned with small blue flowers. 
 My dress was by no means so handsome, 
 and was designed as a foil to Clarice's, but 
 I looked fairly well in it, and was happily 
 contented that Clarice should bear the palm 
 of grace and loveliness. When we were 
 dressed, our master came and criticised us, 
 and I could not find fault with him for 
 openly admiring Clarice. 
 
 " ' These pretty clothes become you, 
 Clarice,' he said. ' Would you like to be 
 always dressed as daintily ? '
 
 1)1 a Silve7' Sea. 143 
 
 " ' Oil, yes ! ' replied Clarice. 
 
 '* * Well,' he said, ' stranger things have 
 happened. Do your best to-night, both of 
 you. You are going to dance before real 
 gentlemen — true gentlemen, Margaret, who 
 have seen the world. We have done with 
 lackeys. You cannot now say that I have 
 not tried to please you. Be prepared ; I 
 will come for you when it is time.' 
 
 " I observed as he left the room that 
 he was attired in a better fashion than 
 usual. 
 
 " It was nearly an hour before we were 
 called. Our conversation turned upon our 
 father, of his kind ways, of the happy life 
 we had lived with him ; and I told Clarice 
 how often he and I used to speak of her, 
 and told her also something of the happy 
 future we had hoped would be hers. 
 
 '' ' It may come yet, Clarice,' I said 
 fondly. ' It may come yet, my dear sister. 
 If I were a prince, I should make you my 
 princess, and challenge the world with 
 you. Ah ! if some kind heart would 
 purchase our liberty from our master, or 
 if Heaven were to set us free, I should 
 fear nothing ! We should be able to live 
 — I see the way ; I am wiser than I was —
 
 144 In a Silvei^ Sea. 
 
 and we would wander liand in liand from 
 village to town, from town to yillage, now 
 playing to simple folk, now to great, until 
 the prince came — your prince, Clarice ! — 
 and claimed my treasure.' 
 
 '' ' And you. Marguerite,' said Clarice ; 
 she always called me so, ' you must have 
 your prince as well as I.' 
 
 " ' No,' I replied, ' I shall never leave 
 you, Clarice — never, never ! How could 
 I live without you ? You are my heart, 
 my soul, my life ! ' 
 
 " She gave me back words as tender as 
 my own, and asked me to sing to her. 
 We sat in the dark, with our arms around 
 each other, and I sang my heart out to 
 her. 
 
 '' Ah ! if the good God had struck us 
 dead as we sat there, how merciful would 
 have been the deed ! The harsh voice of 
 our master broke the happy spell. 
 
 '' ' Come,' he said ; ' they are waiting for 
 yoa.' 
 
 '' We went to him, and he threw large 
 cloaks over our fine dresses, and led us to 
 the theatre in which we were to perform. 
 It was part of the hotel in which we were 
 staying ; our rooms were at the top of the
 
 In a Silver Sea. 145 
 
 house, and having been brought there in 
 the dark night, I had had no opportunity 
 of observing how grand a building it was. 
 It filled me now with wonder and admira- 
 tion. As we descended the noble stair- 
 cases, and traversed the broad passages, 
 many persons stopped to gaze at us, but 
 our master hurried us on, as though 
 anxious to avoid observation. We passed 
 great saloons, and heard from within the 
 sounds of laughter and music, and saw 
 ladies and gentlemen, fashionably dressed, 
 passing in and out. Presently we entered 
 a dark passage, at the end of which was 
 the stage-door of the theatre, and soon we 
 were on the stage. 
 
 " It was a small stage, and the curtain 
 was down. A scene was set, representing 
 a rural landscape, with trees and water 
 and cattle, most exquisitely painted. In 
 the background was a bridge which we 
 were to cross, I first, playing the castanets, 
 with which I was very skilful, and Clarice 
 afterwards. Then I was to sing one of 
 my lullaby songs, and Clarice was to 
 dance to it. We had rehearsed the 
 entertainment in our room at the top of 
 the house, under the direction of our 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 hi a Silver S 
 
 ea. 
 
 master, but we were so accustomed to 
 each other that we could have performed 
 any of our numerous little sketches at a 
 moment's notice without preparation. 
 
 " When, the curtain being drawn, I 
 crossed the bridge and faced the audience, 
 I was so overpowered bv the novelty of 
 the scene before me that all power of self- 
 control deserted me. The body of the 
 theatre was scarcely larger than an ordinary 
 drawing-room, and was furnished with the 
 utmost elegance. The paintings on the 
 walls and ceilings, the velvet chairs framed 
 in gold, the numberless wax candles which 
 shed a soft and mellow light around, the 
 delicious soothing sound of falling water 
 from a perfumed fountain on each side of 
 the stage, made it a theatre fit for a king. 
 How different from the barn we had been 
 in the habit of playing in ! How coarse 
 and common they became as I stood upon 
 this lovely stage, surrounded by this fairy 
 splendour ! I was like one in an enchanted 
 dream, enveloped in a voluptuous mist, 
 which beguiled my senses from all that was 
 real and true in life. 
 
 " There were but few persons present, 
 not more than twenty or thirty, and all
 
 In a Silver Sea. 147 
 
 gentlemen, but so dazzled was I that I could 
 not distinguish a face. A murmur of ap- 
 plause recalled me to my duty, and then 
 I knew that Clarice was on the stage, and 
 was moving gracefully to the cadence of 
 the song which I was almost unconsciously 
 singing. It was over in a moment, as it 
 seemed, and the curtain was down, and 
 Clarice was lying in my arms, palpitating 
 with pleasure and excitement. A soft 
 dreamy look was in her eyes, a transparent 
 colour in her cheeks, a tender smile upon 
 her lips. More delicate and spiritual in her 
 nature than I, she was less able to resist 
 the impressions which had beguiled my 
 senses as well as hers. 
 
 "'Is it real. Marguerite? is it real?' 
 she whispered. 
 
 " The answer was given by the audience, 
 who were calling loudly for Clarice. Not 
 a voice asked for Margaret. 
 
 *' ' Clarice ! Clarice ! Clarice ! ' was all 
 we heard. 
 
 '' The curtain was drawn aside and I led 
 Clarice forward. Then came calls for a 
 repetition of the sketch, and, without 
 leaving the stage, I commenced my song 
 and Clarice her dance, amid rapt and 
 L 2
 
 1 4^ In a Silver Sea. 
 
 earnest attention. ' Beautiful, bewitch- 
 ing ! ' cried the gentlemen as the curtain 
 fell, and again we were called ; and then 
 it rained roses, which Clarice gathered, 
 and I for her, with smiles and tears. 
 Our master, who stood in the side-scenes, 
 said, — 
 
 " ' You have done well. On with your 
 cloaks ; closer, closer over your heads, 
 girls ! If they want to see your faces 
 again, they must pay for it.' 
 
 " When we were in our room he said, — 
 " ' Margaret, if fortune favours me to- 
 night, we will make the world sing the 
 praises of our pretty Clarice.' 
 
 " I did not ask him the meaning of his 
 words. Between him and ourselves there 
 was nothing in common, and I took no 
 interest in his doings, so long as they did 
 not affect us. Clarice and I were excited 
 and overwrought, and as we prepared to 
 retire to rest we spoke but few words to 
 each other. 
 
 " ' Let us dream of it. Marguerite,' said 
 Clarice ; ' I want it to happen all over 
 again.' 
 
 " I enfolded her in my arms. ' God bless 
 you, Clarice ! ' I said.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 149 
 
 " ' Grod bless you, dear sister ! * mur- 
 mured she ; and so we fell asleep. 
 
 " My heart bleeds as I recall what fol- 
 lowed during that never-to-be-forgotten 
 terrible night.
 
 150 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 MAEGARET CONTINUES HER STORY. 
 
 '* As well as I could judge, we must 
 have slept for two or three hours when I 
 was suddenly awakened by a knocking 
 outside our room. I sat up in bed, and, 
 listening, heard a tapping at the door. 
 For a little while I did not speak, but the 
 tapping grew louder, and the person out- 
 side shook the door to rouse me. Then I 
 asked who was there, and was answered in 
 a woman's voice, which I recognized as 
 that of an elderly servant who had at- 
 tended to us and brought us our meals the 
 day before. 
 
 " ' What do you want ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Let me in,' cried the woman ; ' let 
 me in immediately.' 
 
 '' Clarice was asleep. I rose, and 
 throwing the large cloak over me, went to 
 the door. But as I was about to turn the
 
 In a Silver Sea. 151 
 
 key a suspicion of I knew not wliat en- 
 tered my mind. I had not time to follow- 
 out the current of my suspicion ; the door 
 was shaken with greater violence. 
 
 " ' For Heaven's sake ! ' I cried, ' cease 
 that noise. What is it you want ? ' 
 
 " ' I must speak to you at once.' 
 
 " ' Are you alone ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes. Who should be with me, do 
 you think ? ' 
 
 '• I reflected a moment. There was no 
 reason to suppose that the woman was an 
 enemy. What had I to fear from her ? 
 I opened the door, and she entered. I 
 had hitherto taken no particular notice of 
 her, but now I observed her more closely, 
 beino^ enabled to do so bv the aid of the 
 light which she held in her hand, and I 
 felt that she was a woman it would not be 
 safe to trust. 
 
 '' ' This is a strange time of the night 
 to call me,' I said ; ' what is the meaning 
 of it ? ' 
 
 " ' You are inclined to be saucy, mis- 
 tress,' she said insolently. 
 
 " I interrupted her. ' You said you 
 must speak to me at once. What have 
 you to say to me ? '
 
 152 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " ' What I was bidden to say,' slie 
 replied maliciously, playing with my 
 anxiety. 
 
 '' ' Bidden by whom ? ' 
 
 " ' By your master.' She paused in the 
 expectation of my speaking, but I said 
 nothing, and waited for her to proceed. 
 ' Yes, by your master — and the other 
 gentlemen.' 
 
 " ' Who are the other gentlemen ? ' 
 
 " ' The gentlemen who are with him, 
 and who paid for your performance to- 
 night. You are to come down at once 
 with me, you and your sister.' 
 
 " ' What are you about to do ?' I said, 
 standing before her to prevent her from 
 going to the bed. ' I will not have my 
 sister disturbed.' 
 
 " ' You are a grand miss ! You'll not 
 have this, and you'll not have that ! Be 
 sensible — there's no time to lose. Dress 
 yourselves, the pair of you. It will be 
 worse for you if you make a bother about 
 it.' 
 
 *' ' Why should we get up in the middle 
 of the night ? What are we called upon 
 to do ? ' 
 
 " ' My dear,' said the woman, and her
 
 In a Silver Sea. 1 5 3 
 
 tone of confident familiarity made me 
 shudder. ' Gentlemen get curions notions 
 into their heads sometimes, and it is not 
 always safe to cross them. They want 
 you to dance and sing for them.' 
 
 '' ' At this hour ! ' I exclaimed in indig- 
 nation. ' Indeed, we shall do no such 
 thing.' 
 
 '' ' You speak with an air, mistress. 
 Your master said you would most likely 
 refuse.' 
 
 " ' He was right, for once. I do refuse.' 
 
 '' ' And he bade me tell you,' continued 
 the woman, ' that if you did not obey his 
 orders, he should come and fetch you 
 himself.' 
 
 '* ' If he dare ! ' 
 
 '' ' I think he will dare, mistress. He is 
 not a man I should care to anger, and in 
 his present temper I'll not answer for 
 what may happen if you are foolish and 
 obstinate.' 
 
 " ' I do not need your advice. I shall not 
 go. There is no law that can compel us to 
 work for him in the middle of the night.' 
 
 '' The woman laughed. * There is rich 
 man's law and poor man's law. Call your 
 sister, and do as you are bid.'
 
 1 54 /;/ ^ Silver Se, 
 
 a. 
 
 '"I shall not allow my sister to be 
 awakened,' I said resolutely. ' You have 
 my answer.' 
 
 " ' Think twice, mistress.' 
 
 '' ' You have my answer. Go, or I will 
 put you out.' 
 
 " ' You are a determined creature,' said 
 the woman, ' young as you are. If I were 
 as fair as you and that chick there, I 
 should be glad of the opportunity of 
 pleasing two fine gentlemen. One of them 
 is worth winning. Tut, tut, mistress ! 
 don't look black at me, and don't try 
 to make yourself out better than you 
 are. Girls like you are not over parti- 
 cular — ' 
 
 " ' Leave the room ! ' I cried passion- 
 ately. Her insults almost maddened 
 me, and there must have been that 
 in my face which frightened her, for she 
 disappeared swiftly, without speaking 
 another word. 
 
 '' The moment she was gone I closed 
 the door upon her, with the intention of 
 locking it, and not opening it again till 
 daylight. But the key was gone ! I 
 searched for it on the floor; it was not 
 there. Could the woman have taken it, in
 
 In a Silver Sea, 155 
 
 accordance with instructions given to her 
 by our master, or had she done so out of 
 malice ? 
 
 " I listened. All was silent, and I was 
 in the dark. At such a time darkness was 
 my enemy, light my friend. I was certain 
 that my master would come immediately 
 he received my message, and as certain 
 that the woman would convey it to him in 
 a manner as little favourable to myself as 
 possible. I groped my way to the table, 
 upon which I had left a candle and 
 matches before we went to bed. The 
 candle was there, but no matches ; they 
 also had been taken, and I had no means 
 of obtaining a light. I was in despair. 
 
 " At first I thought of going boldly into 
 the passage and calKug for assistance, but 
 I relinquished the design. My experiences 
 had not been of such a nature as to en- 
 courage me to place faith in strangers. 
 We were in a strange hotel, knowing no 
 person, known to none. In the event of 
 one chivalrously inclined appearing, how 
 should I word my appeal to him ? We were 
 undoubtedly servants, and violence had 
 not been offered to us. I had absolutely 
 nothing to say that would insure sympathy.
 
 156 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Then there was the danger of leaving 
 Clarice. No, I had no option but to wait 
 for events. One safeguard was still left 
 to me ; I could barricade the door. 
 
 " There was, however, only the small 
 table in tlie room available for the purpose. 
 The washstand was a fixture, and to move 
 the bed was beyond my strength. That 
 design had also to be abandoned. 
 
 " The conversation between me and the 
 woman had been carried in a low tone, and 
 had not aroused Clarice. Feeling how 
 necessary it was that I should be prepared 
 for action, I determined to keep awake, 
 and I began hurriedly to dress myself. I 
 was much distressed at the discovery that 
 the only clothes to my hand were the fine 
 garments in which we had given our 
 performance. Before I was fully attired, 
 the woman returned. She opened the 
 door without ceremony, and her boldness 
 convinced me that she had taken the 
 key. 
 
 '' ' Your master has sent me back,' she 
 said triumphantly. ' I told you how it 
 would be. He will be here presently. 
 Ah ! I see you have grown sensible ; you 
 are dressing yourself.'
 
 In a Silvej' Sea, i^j 
 
 " ' Why did you steal the key from the 
 door ? ' I asked. 
 
 '' ' Fair words, if you please, mistress,' 
 she retorted. ' It might have been to 
 your advantage to be civil to me.' 
 
 '' I made an effort to soften her. 
 
 " ' Will you not help us ? ' I implored. 
 ' Cannot you see that we are friendless 
 and unprotected ? We will show our 
 gratitude.' 
 
 '' ' How much have you got ? ' she said, 
 bending forward eagerly, and I heard the 
 chinking of money in her hand. 
 
 '' ' We have no money,' I replied sadly, 
 ' not the smallest coin ;' and I could not 
 help adding bitterly, ' I would buy you 
 if I could.' 
 
 " ' I am to be bought,' she said. ' When 
 you are my age, you will be of my mind. 
 There is only one true friend — money.' 
 
 " The voice of my master outside struck 
 terror into me. 
 
 " ' Margaret ! ' he called huskily. 
 
 " ' Well ? ' I answered. 
 
 " ' Are you getting ready ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' I found courage to reply, 
 although my heart was fainting within 
 me.
 
 158 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 '' ' Do so at once/ he said, and I judged 
 from his tone that he was making a violent 
 effort to suppress his passion, ' unless you 
 wish me to come and drag you out. I 
 will do it ' — and here he swore a dreadful 
 oath — 'if you utter another obstinate 
 word.' 
 
 '' I was compelled to confess to myself 
 that obedience would be perhaps the 
 wisest course. 
 
 " ' Tell me what is required of us ? ' 
 
 " ' Two gentlemen, friends of mine — 
 but that is no recommendation — say, 
 then, two gentlemen with whom I am in 
 company, and who were in the theatre 
 to-night, have expressed a desire to see 
 Clarice dance again, and, of course, to 
 hear yoa sing again. I have consented — 
 it is money in my pocket, and my honour 
 is pledged. I will give you time to dress 
 — I am thoughtful, you see. In half an 
 hour I shall expect you and Clarice below ; 
 the woman will show you the way. Are 
 you still rebellious ? Be careful ! ' 
 
 " ' We will come,' I said, ' if no harm is 
 intended us.' 
 
 " ' You are a fool ! No harm is intended. 
 Answer instantly. You will come ? '
 
 hi a Silver Sea. 159 
 
 " The door moved, obedient to his hand, 
 and I knew that further opposition would 
 brino: him into the room. 
 
 " ' We will come,' I said. 
 
 " ' I thought I should tame you,' he said 
 in a brutal tone. ' If you thwart me again, 
 you will live to rue it ! ' 
 
 '' He hurried away, and as I listened to 
 his retreating footsteps, it seemed to me 
 that he was as anxious to be gone as I was 
 to be rid of him. I turned to the woman ; 
 she was gazing at me with a look of spiteful 
 triumph on her face. 
 
 " ' If it is thus,' I said, ' that women 
 assist women, it is better to trust to men.' 
 
 " ' You are a simpleton,' she answered, 
 ' but you have spoken the truth. Women 
 are not to be trusted.' 
 
 " ' We can get ready without your 
 assistance,' I said, and I bade her quit the 
 room. 
 
 *' She glanced around to assure herself 
 that there was no chance of our escaping, 
 and said, as she lighted my candle, — 
 
 " ' I shall wait outside for you.' 
 
 '' I waited till she closed the door behind 
 her. Then I stepped softly to the bedside. 
 
 " I had been so successful in controlling
 
 i6o In a Silver Sea. 
 
 my agitation that but little noise liad been 
 made. Clarice was a deep sleeper, as I 
 had been before our master's conduct had 
 aroused my suspicions ; since that time 
 the slightest sound had been sufficient to 
 wake me. 
 
 " I knelt, and took my sister's hand in 
 mine; her fingers fondly returned my 
 loving pressure. She was in a peaceful 
 sleep, and her curls hung loosely about her 
 childlike face. No angel in heaven could 
 present a more lovely appearance. 
 
 " ' Clarice ! ' I called. 
 
 " She opened her eyes, and smiled at me. 
 
 " ' Ah, Marguerite I was dreaming. 
 It is not morning yet ? ' 
 
 " ' No, my darling. What were you 
 dreaming of ? ' 
 
 '' * Heaven, I think. We were free, 
 Marguerite, our own mistresses, and people 
 were kind to us. Will it ever be ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, dear,' I said ; ' wait till your 
 prince appears. Perhaps you dreamt of 
 him.' 
 
 '''I don't know/ she replied with a 
 blush. ' Why did you wake me ? You 
 are dressed ! Has anything happened ? ' 
 
 " Nothing to be alarmed at, dear. We
 
 In a Silver Sea, i6i 
 
 are to go clown and perform. Our master 
 insists upon it.' 
 
 " ' That is part of ray dream, Marguerite, 
 only our master was not present. W^e 
 performed of our own free will before the 
 gentlemen who were in the theatre last 
 night.' 
 
 " ' Two who were there, Clarice, will not 
 be denied the pleasure of seeing you again, 
 and our master has consented. You will 
 not speak to them, nor shall they to you, 
 if I can prevent it. No harm can befall 
 you while I am by your side.' 
 
 " Docile and obedient in this, as in all 
 things, she submitted to be dressed, 
 although she was scarcely awake ; and 
 when we were ready, she walked with me 
 from the room, with her arm round my 
 waist, and her head resting on my shoulder. 
 How fair and lovely she looked as I sup- 
 ported her, in a half-dream, down the grand 
 vStaircases to the saloon where our master 
 and his master (for he did not deceive me ; 
 he was but a servant to these fine gentle- 
 men) were waiting for us 1 The woman 
 preceded us, and we met not a soul on the 
 way. I^ever shall I forget that time. The 
 silence, the dim, soft light, the ghostly 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 102 /// a Sih'cr Sea, 
 
 echo of our footsteps, inspired me with a 
 superstitious dread of impending evil whicli 
 I vainlv tried to shake off. It appeared 
 to me as if eyery representation of the 
 human form we left behind us was follow- 
 ing our steps with watchful eyes ; the 
 statues in bronze and marble, the paint- 
 ings on the walls and ceilings, seemed to 
 be imbued with mysterions life. 
 
 " ' In there, mistress,' said the woman, 
 and pushing us into a room, the door of 
 which was partly open, she departed. 
 
 " It was a large saloon, the greater por- 
 tion of it inshadow. At oneend, where lights 
 were burning, sat our master playing cards 
 with a gentleman, and, if his flushed face 
 and excited manner were an index to feeling, 
 plaving for higher stakes than he could 
 afford to lose. The gentleman was cool, 
 unconcerned, and smiling, as was another, 
 his friend, who was leaning back in his 
 chair, idly watching the game. 
 
 " ' Curse the luck I ' from our master. 
 
 *' ' "^ith all my heart. Curse it I ' from 
 the gentleman whose luck had been cursed. 
 
 "*Ah, here are our divinities ! ' from the 
 gentleman who was watching the game. 
 
 "These exclamations fell upon my
 
 In a Silver Sea. 163 
 
 ears as we entered. Clarice did not ob- 
 serve what was passing around ns ; her 
 eyes were closed, and, fearing that in 
 a moment she would be fast asleep, I 
 tightened my clasp upon her. 
 
 " ' Clarice,' I whispered, ' rouse yourself. 
 We have work to do ; you must not 
 sleep.' 
 
 " She opened her eyes languidly, and 
 closed them again with a charming smile. 
 
 "'I cannot keep them open,' she mur- 
 mured ; ' I shall be ready to dance when 
 you want me. Let me dream.' 
 
 " Some words which I did not catch 
 passed between our master and the gentle- 
 men. 
 
 " ' She can dance in shadow,' said the 
 gentleman who was not playing. ' It will 
 form a finer picture.' 
 
 " N"evertheless, he came close to us 
 with a five-branched candelabra containing 
 lighted candles in his hand. 
 
 " ' Young ladies,' he said in a courteous 
 tone, * we could not rest until we had a 
 further exhibition of your grace and skill. 
 You will perform for us ? ' 
 
 " ' We have no option,' I replied with 
 spirit. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 I'lt ct Sliver Sea. 
 
 " ' We should be loth to compel you to 
 do what is disagreeable to yourselves,' he 
 said gently. ' Our friend the manager ' (by 
 which I understood him to refer to our 
 master) 'informed us that you would be 
 delighted at the opportunity.' 
 
 '' ' Your friend, the manager,' I said 
 hotly, with the intention of exposing the 
 falsehood, as I hoped, to our advantage, 
 for I could not doubt that the speaker was 
 a gentleman ; but I was prevented by an 
 angry exclamation from our master, who, 
 dashing a pack of cards to the ground in 
 a fury, cried, — 
 
 '' ' The devil's in the cards to-night ! ' 
 
 " His adversary smiled superciliously, 
 and I divined that he was playing with 
 our master in more ways than one. 
 
 '' All this time the gentleman who held 
 the candelabra was gazing earnestly upon 
 Clarice's face, which was lying upon my 
 shoulder. 
 
 *' ' Rest awhile,' he said, and with a light 
 touch upon my arm, he encouraged me to 
 sit upon a couch by which I was standing. 
 Light as his touch was, and gently as I 
 obeyed it, the motion disturbed Clarice, 
 who opened her eyes ; they met those of
 
 Ill a Silver Sea, 165 
 
 tlie gentleman, and some magnetic power 
 in him prevented her from relapsing into 
 her almost unconscious state. For a few 
 moments they gazed at each other in 
 silence, and then he moved suddenly 
 away, and Clarice closed her eyes again 
 w^ith a happy sigh, and nestled in my 
 arms. 
 
 " I can give only an imperfect account 
 of the conversation that now took place 
 between the men. The gentleman was for 
 allowing us to rest ; our master would not 
 have it so. 
 
 " ' It is a debt of honour,' he said mth 
 a swagger. ' You asked me at what rate 
 I valued the services of the girls. I told 
 you — fifty pieces. You staked the money, 
 and won.' 
 
 " ' But if we are willing to forego the 
 claim? .... not reasonable, perhaps. . . . 
 I am to blame .... so late an hour .... 
 Clarice is almost asleep.' 
 
 " Then, from our master, with an oath : 
 ' I pay my debt. They shall sing and 
 dance ! . . . . Another fifty pieces to let 
 them off ? Not double fifty. . . . They are 
 mine — my slaves ! How ? I bought and 
 paid for them ! . . . . The luck is against
 
 i66 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 me ; it will turn it. You will give me my 
 revenge ? ' 
 
 " ' To the last drop of your blood,' said 
 the imperturbable player ; and added, 
 looking at liis friend, 'Let the girls dance; 
 it will do them no harm.' 
 
 '' ' Do you hear ? ' cried our master to 
 us. ' Dance and sing — I command you ! 
 If the cards trick me, you shall not ! ' 
 
 "'Scoundrel!' 
 
 '' The exclamation was uttered by the 
 gentleman who had interceded for us, and 
 who now again approached us. 
 
 " « There is no help for you,' said the 
 gentleman to me ; ' you will dance for 
 us.' 
 
 '' ' True, there is no help for us,' I 
 answered bitterly ; ' and if I do not thank 
 you for your intended kindness, it must be 
 -because I am by nature ungrateful. Go 
 to your friends ; you are not needed here.' 
 
 *' ' He says you are his slaves — by what 
 right ? ' 
 
 " ' I do not know ; the law has decided 
 it. I fear that Clarice will not live to see 
 the end of her term of slavery. As for 
 me, it matters little ; I am strong, and can 
 bear anything. Be kind enough to leave
 
 /;/ a Silver Sea. 167 
 
 us ; I do not forget that you are tlie cause 
 of our being here at this hour.' 
 
 " He left me without reply, and rejoined 
 the gamblers. 
 
 *' When I had forced myself to calmness, 
 I commenced my favourite song, and 
 Clarice glided from my arms, and moved 
 amoDg the shadows, like one in a dream. 
 It could scarcely be called dancing, but 
 her movements were full of grace, and she 
 inspired me with a fear similar to that 
 I experienced on the first night of her 
 recovery from her illness. I was not the 
 only person in the room who experienced 
 the feeling, for I heard the gentleman 
 say,— 
 
 " ' I believe Clarice is a spirit, and that 
 she will presently melt into thin air. Is not 
 that what the poet says ? Our revels now 
 are ended ! Friend manager, that part of 
 your debt is paid.' 
 
 " Indeed, Clarice could dance no more. 
 She sank upon the couch in a sleep so sound 
 that I could not rouse her. It was not 
 possible for me to carry her through the 
 long passages and up the great staircases to 
 our room, and I doubt, if I had attempted 
 it, whether I should not have lost my way.
 
 1 68 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Besides, I also was overpowered with 
 fatigue, and observing that we Avere now 
 apparently unnoticed by the gentlemen, I 
 knelt upon the ground, and placing my 
 head upon the pillow by the side of Clarice, 
 I soon was fast asleep.
 
 In a Stiver Sea. 169 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BETEATAL. 
 
 "How shall I describe' what followed? 
 A hundred times have I endeavoured to 
 recall impressions and events in intelligible 
 order, and a hundred times have I been 
 baffled. I have said I w^as a light sleeper. 
 What w^as it, then, that rendered me un- 
 conscious and powerless, when I should 
 have been standing at my post like a faith- 
 ful w^atch-dog to guard my lamb from the 
 wolves ? 
 
 '^ A cloak is thrown over us. I look up 
 with eyes but half -open, and I see one of 
 the gentlemen moving away. My impres- 
 sion is that he has been standing by our 
 side for some little while, gazing at us. 
 His action is kind and considerate, and I 
 think of him wdth gentleness. In a pleasant 
 way Clarice becomes associated with him, 
 and a number of happy fancies present
 
 170 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 themselves. While they are slipping from 
 me and returning in fantastic shape, I hear 
 these words : — 
 
 '' ' I told you, to the last drop of your 
 blood ! But if you sold yourself ten times 
 over, you could not pay what you have 
 
 already lost Doubt you ? Be 
 
 reasonable, fellow. We trust only our 
 equals.' 
 
 '' A hot retort ; a contemptuous allusion 
 to the social position of my master ; and 
 then a vision of three men — two with 
 drawn swords, one standing by, amused 
 at the unequal contest. For the furious 
 thrusts of our master are parried with 
 consummate grace and skill by his 
 antagonist. A jDass — another — and the 
 brute lies on the ground, at the mercy of 
 the gentleman. 
 
 " ' Mercy ? It would be a charity to get 
 rid of you.' 
 
 " ' Leave him to me.' 
 
 '* ' My friend is on your side. I make 
 you over to him. After all, I doubt 
 whether you are worth the killing.' .... 
 
 '' Clarice and I are back in the old time, 
 and are walking with our father through 
 green lanes. It is a well-remembered
 
 In a Silver Sea. 171 
 
 walk, beguiled with loving conversation. 
 We stop for our mid-day meal outside a 
 ^Dicturesque little inn, the porch of which 
 is a bower of roses and honeysuckle. The 
 mistress comes out, and gives us a jug of 
 clear water, drawn from a spring. My 
 father thanks her courteously, and she 
 wishes to change the water for wine, but 
 he will not have it so. We have just 
 began to eat, when two poor girls, in com- 
 parison with whom we are princesses, pass 
 us, with wistful eyes upon our food. My 
 father calls them back immediately, and 
 we share our meal with them. We 
 question them concerning their history, 
 and they tell us the story of their 
 lives 
 
 " ' Sisters ! No ! ' 
 
 '^ Who spoke ? Not my father, for he 
 is gone ; the inn, the flowered porch, the 
 children, have vanished. 
 
 '' ' It will be a better kind of slavery 
 
 than that to which You dog ! I 
 
 believe you stole her You set a 
 
 high price upon your wares ; but the 
 texture is delicate, and its beauty not to 
 be disputed. How you came to be the 
 owner is one of the mysteries. Well, have
 
 1/2 III a Silver Sea. 
 
 at you. I'll not dispute your price. Cut 
 the cards.' 
 
 " Are the words really uttered, or created 
 by my imagination ? I cannot say ; but 
 spoken or not, they convey no warning to 
 my mind. Blind watchdog ! Sleeping at 
 your post when you should have been awake 
 and stirring ! But you have been well 
 punished for your neglect of a sacred trust. 
 
 " My dreams continue. We are all 
 seated round the card-table — the gentle- 
 men, our master, Clarice, and I. We girls 
 watch the game curiously as though we 
 are vitally interested in it. Piles of gold 
 are before us, which the gentlemeu, in sport, 
 push into Clarice's lap. At first she is 
 pleased, but when the gold rises higher 
 and higher until she is completely hidden 
 from my sight, she cries, ' Save me, Mar- 
 guerite, save me ! ' As I am brushing the 
 gold away, a church bell tolls the hour ; 
 one, two, three, four, and then these words 
 come to me at intervals : — 
 
 " ' Do not let it trouble you .... Better 
 my slave than yours .... She shall be a 
 queen ! . . . . Her clothes ? . . . . Twenty 
 gold pieces ! Well, I don't bargain. Cut 
 again.' ....
 
 In a Silver Sea. 173 
 
 *' And now I am visited by a terrible 
 fancy. Our master approaclies Clarice, 
 and is about to clasp her in his arms, when 
 the gentleman with whom he has been 
 playing advances to him threateningly. I 
 also make an effort to protect Clarice, but 
 I cannot move. I am bound to earth by 
 an unseen agency. I struggle against it, 
 but am nnable to rise. A vapour floats 
 across my face, and robs me of the power 
 of thought. All surrounding objects slip 
 from me; I hear nothinof, see nothino-, 
 feel nothing. I am as one dead to the 
 
 world. 
 
 * * * * 4^ « 
 
 '' It was late in the morning before I 
 woke, and then I found myself lying on a 
 couch in a better furnished room than the 
 one we had occupied at the top of the 
 house. The apartment was in semi-dark- 
 ness, and the woman who had visited us 
 on the previous night was looking down 
 upon me. My mind was not yet quite 
 clear ; my head ached, and my senses were 
 in a strange state of confusion. I gazed 
 at the woman in bewilderment ; she gave 
 me a wicked smile, and I noticed that my 
 ordinary clothes were hanging on her arm.
 
 1 74 In a Silver Sect, 
 
 " ' Quality hours, mistress,' slie said 
 tauntingly, and her voice brought to my 
 mind a full remembrance of her treacher- 
 ous conduct towards my sister and my- 
 self. 
 
 " I turned to speak to Clarice, and saw 
 to my dismay that she was not by my side, 
 nor in the room. 
 
 " ' Where is my sister ? ' I cried, spring- 
 ing to my feet. 
 
 '' The woman did not answer the 
 question. 
 
 '' ' Do you know what time it is ? ' she 
 said. ' It is an hour past noon. What 
 are you about to do, mistress ? ' 
 
 " ' I am going to my sister,' I replied. 
 
 " She barred the way, and I could not 
 pass her. 
 
 " ' You cannot leave the room in your 
 stage dress. It would not be becoming.' 
 
 " ' Where is my sister ? ' I asked, again. 
 
 " * Safe enough, no doubt,' she answered. 
 ' Here are your clothes. Take off those 
 silk trappings ; they are mine.' 
 
 "'Yours!' 
 
 '''Yes, mine. I bought them of your 
 master, and paid for them.' 
 
 " ' He sent you to me ? '
 
 In a Silver Sea. 175 
 
 " ' I should not have come without 
 orders. I am not in love with you, 
 pretty as you think you are. Dress 
 yourself quickly ; your master is waiting 
 for you.' 
 
 '' With feverish haste I tore off my fine 
 stage dress, and put on my common 
 clothes. 
 
 " ' Now,' I said, ' take me to my 
 master.' 
 
 " 'All in good time, my lady/ she said, 
 proceeding leisurely to fold up my stage 
 dress ; ' I must be careful of my property. 
 I'll hire a dancing-girl of my own, and 
 make money out of her. It would have 
 been wise in you to have made me your 
 friend.' 
 
 *' My anxiety concerning Clarice was 
 too deep to permit of my wrangling with 
 the woman, who seemed to derive pleasure 
 by prolonging my suspense. Presently 
 she bade me follow her, and she led the 
 way to a room where my master was 
 sitting with an empty wine-bottle before 
 him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his 
 appearance was that of a man who had 
 been for a long time without rest. 
 
 " ' Oh, you have come at last ! ' he ex-
 
 176 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 claimed, with a frown. ' You are a faith- 
 ful servant, detaining me here for hours ! 
 We ought to have been ten miles on the 
 road by this time.' 
 
 '' ' We are going to leave the town, 
 then ? ' I said, looking round for Clarice. 
 
 '' He replied with a storm of curses upon 
 the place and every person in it. ''I wish 
 I had broken my neck before I came into 
 the cursed hole ! May fire seize it, and 
 burn it to ashes ! Come.' 
 
 '' ' I am ready. Where is Clarice ? ' 
 
 " He was prepared with his answer. 
 She has gone before us. If we are not 
 sharp, we shall not overtake her.' 
 
 " ' Gone before us ! ' I echoed, struggling 
 inwardly with a f aintness which oppressed 
 me, like the faintness of death. ' Alone 1 ' 
 
 " ' No ; with a friend, who offered me a 
 seat for her in a waggon that was going 
 our road. I am careful of my girls, you 
 see.' 
 
 " « You entrusted Clarice to a stranger ! 
 My sister, who has never been parted from 
 me for an hour ! " 
 
 " ' Why not ? It is time she learnt to 
 depend more upon herself. She will not 
 break, not being made of glass. If we
 
 In a Silvei' Sea. 177 
 
 delay mucli longer, we shall not reach her 
 to-night.' 
 
 '' ' Swear to me that you are speaking 
 the truth.' 
 
 " He crossed his heart, half in jest, half 
 in earnest. ' I swear. And now let me 
 have no more of your airs. Eemember 
 that you are my servant.' 
 
 '' ' I do remember,' I said, gazing 
 steadily at him. ' If you are deceiving 
 me, may your life be blighted and your 
 death accursed ! ' 
 
 " ' You may try my patience too far. 
 Ask quickly what other questions you 
 have to ask, and make an end of this.' 
 
 " ' Where are the gentlemen with whom 
 you were gambling last night ? ' 
 
 " ' In the devil's clutches, I hope ! ' 
 
 '' ' Are they here now, and do they belong 
 to this place ? ' 
 
 " ' They do not belong to the town, 
 and they left it at sunrise. Is that the 
 last?' 
 
 " ' Yes ; I am ready. Let us go.' 
 
 *' We went into the street, and at a signal 
 from my master a small covered cart drew 
 up. No person in the hotel took the 
 slightest notice of us. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 1 78 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " ' Clarice could have accompanied us,' 
 I said, ' as we are to ride.' 
 
 '' ' I£ you were not eaten up with sus- 
 picion,' said my master, ' you would see 
 that there is barely room for ourselves. 
 Besides, when I sent Clarice off this 
 morning, I thought you and I would have 
 had to walk. You are grateful for kind- 
 ness ! ' 
 
 '''It is not without cause that I am 
 suspicious. Shall we be certain to come 
 up to Clarice to-night ? ' 
 
 " ' Not if we stand babbling here all 
 day.' 
 
 " ' Forgive me ; tell the man to drive 
 quickly ; we may overtake her on the 
 road.' 
 
 "My master in a low tone gave instruc- 
 tions to the driver, and then assisted me 
 into the cart. He arranged some straw 
 for me to lie upon, and seating himself at 
 the back of the conveyance, drew the 
 canvas hood close, so that we were hidden 
 from the people in the streets. The driver 
 sat in front, and I crouched down behind 
 him, in such a position that I could see the 
 road before us. We drove fast, and were 
 soon out of the town. The driver did not
 
 In a Silver' Sea. 179 
 
 speak to me, nor I to liim, nor did lie turn 
 even to look at me. The paths we tra- 
 versed were desolate and lonely, and the 
 few human beings we saw tramping along 
 were forlorn and wretched-looking. When 
 we were twelve or fourteen miles from the 
 town we came to a poverty-stricken inn, 
 and the man stopped to give his horse food 
 and water. My master got out to drink, 
 and brought me some bread and cheese, 
 which I could not eat. I so begrudged 
 every moment of delay, that I fretted 
 myself almost into a fever at the stoppage. 
 If I had had money I would have given it 
 to the man as a bribe not to linger ; having 
 none, nor anything of value about me, no 
 course was open to me but to wait for 
 events. With what eagerness and anxiety 
 did I now examine every conveyance we 
 met and passed, asking my master if that 
 or that was the conveyance which con- 
 tained Clarice ! He had but one answer 
 for me, ' ISTo.' He did not take the trouble 
 to look up, and towards the evening he 
 pretended to fall asleep, and spoke to me 
 no more. I had plenty of time for thought, 
 but, strive as I would, I could not recall 
 events in intelligible sequence. All that 
 N 2
 
 i8o In a Silver Sea. 
 
 had passed during the last twenty-four 
 hours was bhirred and indistinct, and I 
 found it impossible, although my mind was 
 clearer now, to separate fancy from reality. 
 One indelible impression, however, remained 
 — that by some mysterious means I had 
 been rendered unconscious, and that the 
 sleep into which I had fallen was not 
 naturally produced. I would not allow 
 myself to get further than this ; every 
 suspicion that presented itself to me, based 
 upon this conviction, I rejected with fierce 
 vehemence. Evening passed, and night 
 came on, and still no sign of Clarice ; but 
 my master had held out no hope that wo 
 should overtake her on the road. Wo 
 must have ridden a great distance, for the 
 driver did not spare his horse. On wo 
 drove, through the gloomy night, until wo 
 reached a small village, the few inhabitants 
 of which had retired to rest. Every house 
 was in darkness ; not a sound was to be 
 heard. We stopped at an inn, the driver 
 jumped down, and my master assisted me 
 to the ground. 
 
 "'We shall rest here to-night,' ho 
 said. 
 
 " ' Then Clarice is within ?' I asked.
 
 In a Silver Sea. i8i 
 
 " ' Sli8 ought to be,' replied my master, 
 knocking loudly at tlie door. 
 
 '' The driver, after receiving some money 
 from my master, jumped on to his cart 
 and drove away. My master and I were 
 alone. 
 
 "In a few moments a fair-faced lout, 
 but half-dressed, opened the door, and 
 stood in the doorway, holding up a lamp 
 to our faces. 
 
 " ' What do you want ? ' he asked. 
 
 " ' To rest here to-night,' said my 
 master; 'we can pay for our accommoda- 
 tion.' 
 
 '' ' Enter.' 
 
 " He made way for us, and I ran in, 
 calling ' Clarice ! Clarice ! ' 
 
 " ' Is the girl mad ? ' exclaimed the land- 
 lord. ' Cease that noise ; you will wake 
 my children.' 
 
 '' ' She is calling for her sister,' said my 
 master. 
 
 " ' There is no sister of hers here.' 
 
 " ' Who is in the house ? ' asked my 
 master. 
 
 " ' Xo one but my wife and our 
 children.' 
 
 " ' Did not a waggon stop here this
 
 1 82 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 evening, bringing a young woman, about 
 sixteen years of age, who was to remain 
 until we arrived ? ' 
 
 " ' Nothing of the sort. No waggon 
 with a young woman has stopped at the 
 house.' 
 
 " ' But one might have passed.' 
 
 " ' A dozen might have passed for all I 
 know. What will you have to eat ? ' 
 
 '' ' Anything you have got ; and bring 
 me a bottle of red wine.' 
 
 " I was almost paralyzed with fear as 
 I listened to this dialogue. My master 
 put his questions in a careless tone, and 
 received the answers with unconcern. 
 What construction, but one that it mad- 
 dened me to think of, could I place upon 
 the situation in which I found myself? 
 Clarice not here ! Torn from me, her 
 only protector, herself a child, ignorant 
 of the world's ways ! — I confronted my 
 master. 
 
 " ' Explain this to me,' I said. 
 
 " His face grew dark with passion. 
 ' Speak to me in a proper tone, Mar- 
 garet.' 
 
 " ' Tell me what this means ! ' I im- 
 plored.
 
 In a Silver Sea, 183 
 
 '''That is better,' he said. 'I made 
 arrangements that the three of us should 
 start early this morning. I sent to rouse 
 you half a dozen times, and each time the 
 woman came back, saying she could not 
 wake you. That was no fault of mine. 
 Opportunity offering, I thought it best to 
 send Clarice before us, as, in consequence 
 of the lateness of the hour, I supposed our 
 journey might be beyond her strength. I 
 gave instructions to my friend the waggoner 
 that if 'night fell before he reached this 
 •village he was to leave Clarice at this 
 inn ; but if he had time, he was to go on 
 to the next village, where I intend to put 
 up for a day or two. As Clarice is not 
 here, we shall find her further on. That 
 is all.' 
 
 " ' That is not all,' I said, my heart almost 
 bursting out of my bosom ; ' you are con- 
 cealing something from me.' 
 
 " ' Think what you please,' he retorted, 
 shrugging his shoulders ; ' it will not help 
 you or Clarice. Do not mistake me — 
 beyond certain limits you shall not go, with- 
 out being made to feel it. I have been too 
 easy with you hitherto.' 
 
 " ' I do not want to make you angry,'
 
 184 I^t ct Silver Sea. 
 
 I said humbly, subdued by tlie terror of the 
 situation. 'I know it will not help me. I 
 only ask that Clarice shall be given back to 
 me ! I will work for you day and night — 
 there is no task you set me to do that I will 
 not perform ; you shall never hear another 
 rebellious word from my lips ; indeed, 
 indeed, no slave could be more submissive 
 to you than I will be, if you will take me 
 to my sister ! ' 
 
 " ' I am glad to hear you speak in that 
 manner,' said my master. ' You have 
 defied me too long, and I have borne it 
 too quietly. Remain submissive and 
 obedient ; it will be best for you. There 
 is no doubt we shall see Clarice to- 
 morrow. You have discovered, my girl, 
 who is the strongest. Here is the land- 
 lord, with food and wine. Eat and drink. 
 Obey me.' 
 
 " What could I do ? What couU I do ? 
 Keep my agony to myself, conceal my 
 fears, and endeavour to soften the heart of 
 this man, who held me as completely in his 
 power as though I were bound to him by 
 an iron chain ! With tears running down 
 my face I sat by his side, and ate a few 
 morsels of food, endeavouring in a hundred
 
 In a Silver Sea. 185 
 
 small ways to awaken some liuman sym- 
 pathy in his breast for my almost unbear- 
 able sufferings. 
 
 '^ ' What time shall we start in the morn- 
 ing ? ' I asked. 
 
 '' ' At eight o'clock.' 
 
 " ' Let us start at seven,' I implored. 
 
 '''Yon shall be humoured, Margaret; 
 at seven, then.' 
 
 " ' How can I thank you ? Is it far to 
 the next village ? ' 
 
 " ' Eighteen miles ; and we shall have 
 to walk. You will need all your strength/ 
 
 " Ah ! he was cunning in his villainy. 
 He turned my misery against myself, and 
 made me feel that if I opposed his wishes 
 I should prove myself an enemy to my 
 sister. Our meal being finished, the land- 
 lord informed me that he had only one 
 spare bedroom, which my master could 
 occupy, and that I could sleep with his 
 children. He showed me to the bedroom 
 where his little girls were sleeping. Before 
 leaving me, he stooped over the bed and 
 kissed their pretty faces, and this natural 
 and tender action flooded my eyes with 
 fresh tears. I was so utterly alone — in a 
 world of strangers, with no link of human
 
 1 86 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 love but Clarice, who had been torn from 
 me ! I thought of her desolation and 
 despair at our separation, and of the un- 
 happy night she was passing. She was 
 awake, as I was, thinking of me, as I was 
 of her. A small clock in a wooden case 
 was on the mantlepiece, and I watched the 
 hands until watching became a torture, 
 they moved so slowly. Then I sank to 
 my knees, and prayed, and with my 
 thoughts concentrated upon the necessity 
 of waking early, I fell into an uneasy 
 slumber. 
 
 ''At five o'clock in the morning I Avas 
 standing outside the inn, in the light of 
 the early sunrise. The presage of a fine 
 day comforted me a little. ' I shall see 
 Clarice soon,' I thought with gladness ; 
 ' I shall see Clarice soon ! ' And I men- 
 tally vowed that, when she was once more 
 within the shelter of my arms, nothing but 
 death should ever again separate us. 
 Never again should I be caught sleeping 
 at my post. The place I was in was 
 strange to me; I had no knowledge of 
 the roads by which we had reached it, 
 nor in which direction we should wend 
 our way to Clarice. The conviction that
 
 In a Silver Sea. 187 
 
 if I were left to myself I should be lost 
 for ever was one of the acutest miseries of 
 my position. I had absolutely no depen- 
 dence but my master. ' There is no doubt 
 w^e shall see Clarice to-morrow,' he had 
 said. To-morrow had come, and in a few 
 hours my sufferings would be over. I 
 walked to a field, and picking a few wild 
 flowers, made two posies, one for the land- 
 lord's children, and one for my master. I 
 must meet cunning with cunning. I 
 placed the children's posy in their room, 
 and I gave the smaller bunch of flowers 
 to my master, who was by this time awake 
 and up. He received them with a smile, 
 not of thankfulness, but of triumph, and 
 stuck them in his hat. 
 
 '' ' You are growing sensible, Margaret,' 
 he said. 
 
 *' At seven o'clock, true to his promise, 
 we started, and within an hour two lum- 
 bering vehicles passed us, going our road. 
 I eyed them wistfully. 
 
 " ' Can we not ride ? ' I asked. 
 
 " * All my money has gone,' he replied ; 
 ' I have barely enough to keep us for the 
 week. We will ride and welcome, if you 
 will pay for it.'
 
 i88 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 <c c 
 
 Alas ! ' I said ; ' I have nothing.' 
 " I was foolish enough to look wistfully 
 along the road, in the absurd hope that a 
 kind Providence would place a piece of 
 gold there, to help us more quickly on the 
 way. On and on we walked, he often 
 lagging behind to try my patience ; but I 
 uttered no word of complaint. Before 
 noon, there was a change in the weather ; 
 dark clouds had gathered, and the rain 
 began to fall heavily. I was for walking 
 on, heedless of the storm ; my master 
 would not have it so. He stopped at the 
 first hut we reached, and sought shelter 
 within. This caused a delay of three or 
 four hours, for he was deaf to all my en- 
 treaties, saying there was time enough, 
 and that we should arrive at our destina- 
 tion by night. In the afternoon we started 
 again, the rain being over, and shortly 
 after nightfall our weary walk was done. 
 There were many houses and people in the 
 village, and it was altogether more impor- 
 tant than the one we had left behind. 
 ' Clarice is there ! ' I whispered to myself. 
 ' Thank Grod, we shall presently be to- 
 gether.' And I said aloud to my master, — 
 " ' Where shall we find my sister ? '
 
 In a Silver Sea, 189 
 
 '' ' At the Salutation Inn ! ' 
 
 '' ' Have jou been in this place before ? ' 
 
 '* ' Once, years ago. My friend told me 
 be knew the inn well.' 
 
 " His ready answers confirmed my 
 hopes ; I had tortured myself with need- 
 less fears. 
 
 " ' We cannot put up at the Salutation/ 
 he said ; ' we must seek cheaper accom- 
 modation. My purse has little enough in 
 it.' 
 
 " There was no diflGiculty in discovering 
 what he sought — a poor inn, frequented 
 by the needy. 
 
 " ' This will suit,' he said, ' and I dare- 
 say we can raise a little money by our 
 performances. Remain here ; I will bring 
 Clarice to you.' 
 
 '* He would not allow me to accompany 
 him. Alone he went ; alone he returned. 
 His face was troubled, his manner confused, 
 and I did not pause to consider whether 
 he had schooled himself into this expres- 
 sion of feeling. 
 
 "'Great God!' I cried, 'where is 
 Clarice ? ' 
 
 " ' She has not been seen,' he replied 
 suddenly. ' I do not understand it. Why
 
 i^o In a Silver Sea. 
 
 should slie have taken it into her head to 
 run away from so loving a sister ? ' 
 
 " The truth flashed upon me in a moment. 
 We had been betrayed. 
 
 " ' You villain ! ' I exclaimed. ' You 
 shameless villain ! 0, that I were a man, 
 to punish you for your treachery ! '
 
 In a Silver Sea, 191 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MARGARET TIGHTENS THE CHAINS WHICH BIND 
 HER TO SLAVERY. 
 
 '^ Or wbat passed between us immediately 
 after this I have but an indistinct remem- 
 brance, my agitation was so great. I 
 know that one moment I accused my 
 master of the blackest treachery, and the 
 next entreated him upon my knees to tell 
 me where I could find Clarice ; I know that 
 he made lame attempts at explanation, 
 which I refused to accept, and that in the 
 end he struck me, and forcing me into a 
 small room, turned the key upon me. 
 There was a bed in the room, but I did 
 not seek repose ; through that long, long 
 night I sat in the dark, or walked about 
 the room, asking myself what I could do 
 to rescue my sister, and what motive my 
 master could have had in getting rid of 
 one who was useful and profitable to him.
 
 192 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 I could find no answers to mj torturing 
 questions. All that I could do was to 
 suffer and wait, 
 
 " In tlie morning my master came to tbe 
 door. 
 
 '' ' Are you up ? ' lie called. 
 
 " ' Yes,' I answered. 
 
 '' He unlocked tlie door. I ran out to 
 liim ; there was still a lingering hope. 
 Clarice might have arrived during the 
 night. 
 
 " ' Has she come ? ' I cried eagerly. 
 ' Have you heard anything of her ? ' 
 
 " ' I have heard nothing of her.' He 
 looked at me keenly. ' You have not 
 slept.' 
 
 '* ' How could I sleep in such agony and 
 suspense as I am suffering ? ' 
 
 ^' ' It will not help you to find Clarice/ 
 he said. 
 
 " ' I wish I could die ! ' I exclaimed de- 
 spairingly. 
 
 " ' That will not help you to find 
 Clarice.' 
 
 " ' You really mean it ? ' I implored. 
 ' You wish to find her ? You will try to 
 find her ? ' 
 
 '' ' Without doubt I shall, unless you
 
 In a Silver Sea. 193 
 
 continue to thwart me. You are a bad 
 reasoner, Margaret. Did not Clarice put 
 money in my pocket, and did you ever 
 know me go against my own interests ?' 
 
 " He liad breakfast placed before me, 
 and stood over me while I forced myself 
 to eat; indeed, I was compelled to eat, 
 having partaken of so little food during 
 the last two days. Then he bade me 
 accompany him, and to my surprise took 
 me to the office of a magistrate, where he 
 made a formal complaint of the abduction 
 of Clarice, his apprentice. He gave a 
 minute description of Clarice, and of the 
 man into whose care he had confided her, 
 of the waggon which conveyed her away, of 
 his instructions to the man, of his inability 
 to discover any trace of him, and of my 
 prostration and grief at my sister's dis- 
 appearance. I listened in amazement. He 
 spoke with such an assumption of sincerity 
 and sorrow that it was scarcely possible for 
 a stranger to disbelieve him. 
 
 " His statement was taken down in 
 writing, and he was informed that the law 
 could not assist him until be discovered 
 the person into whose charge he had given 
 his apprentice. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 " * It shall be the business of my life to 
 find and punish him/ said my master, ' and 
 to restore Clarice to the arms of her un- 
 happy sister.' 
 
 '* The magistrate complimented him 
 upon his humanity, and me upon having so 
 kind-hearted a master and guardian. He 
 was, indeed, too strong and cunning for 
 me. 
 
 " When we left the magistrate's office, 
 my master said, — 
 
 '' 'Margaret, it is time we came to an 
 understanding. You did not sleep last 
 night. Why ? ' 
 
 " ' I am very unhappy,' I replied, ' and 
 I could not sleep.' 
 
 " ' You passed the time in thinking 
 what it was best for you to do to find 
 Clarice?' 
 
 "'Yes.' 
 
 " ' I also have been thinking seriously 
 of that — as I have proved by my visit 
 to the magistrate this morning — and of 
 the relations in which you and I stand to 
 each other. They do not satisfy me.' 
 
 '' ' Neither do they satisfy me.' 
 
 " ' You do not trust me.' 
 
 " I was silent ; with Clarice in my mind,
 
 I 71 a Silver Sea. 195 
 
 I felt it would not be prudent to anger 
 him too far. 
 
 " ' It is clear that you are determined 
 not to do me justice, and that you are 
 tired of me. Well, I am also getting tired 
 of you. You pine for liberty. I give it 
 to you. Do you understand me ? ' 
 
 " ' Not quite,' I replied, with inward 
 fear. 
 
 " ' Yet it is not difficult. I have a 
 legal claim upon you by which I can 
 compel you to work for me until you are 
 twenty-one years of age ; I am willing to 
 relinquish that claim. You look upon 
 your servitude with me as a kind of 
 bondage; I offer you release from a 
 hateful slavery. If you so decide it, you 
 are free to go. I shall require you to 
 sign a paper to the effect that you leave 
 me of your own accord, and that you will 
 never trouble me again ; and this night, 
 if you wish, shall terminate our partner- 
 ship.' 
 
 *' I was so confounded by this unex- 
 pected proposal, made apparently in a 
 frank spirit, that I could not find words 
 to reply. 
 
 " ' I intend,' continued my master, ' to 
 2
 
 196 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 have this matter settled immediately. I 
 will no longer put up with your whims 
 and caprices. I give you till six o'clock 
 to reflect and decide ; if before that time 
 you do not come to me, either to agree to 
 my offer or to promise to be more submis- 
 sive to me in the future. I will take effec- 
 tual means to rid myself of you. You 
 have sense as well as spirit, and I think 
 you can see that I am in earnest.' 
 
 " ' If I resolve to leave you,' I said, 
 ' will you give me a small sum of money 
 to help me on ? ' 
 
 " ' Not the smallest coin,' he replied, 
 *and for the best of all reasons — I am 
 absolutely a beggar.' 
 
 '* ' And I should never see you more ? ' 
 
 " ' Never, if I could help it.' 
 
 " ' Would you continue your search for 
 ray sister ? ' 
 
 '' ' Certainly.' 
 
 " ' And if you found her ? ' 
 
 " I paused, in great agitation. Never 
 till this moment had I realized how com- 
 pletely this man held me in his power. 
 
 ** He repeated my words. 
 
 "'And if I found her? Well?" 
 
 " ' Would you restore her to me ? '
 
 In a Silver Sea. 197 
 
 ^' ' You must think me a dull-brained 
 idiot, indeed ! Clarice is worth her weight 
 in gold to me.' 
 
 *' ' You know that my heart, my life, are 
 bound up in Clarice, and by force you 
 would keep her from me ? ' 
 
 " ' Still unreasonable, Margaret,' he 
 said in a cold tone of displeasure. ' It is 
 not I who would keep her by force from 
 you ; it is you who, by your own deliberate 
 act, will decree the separation. A little 
 reflection will lead you to a clearer 
 view of the case. You have told me in 
 numerous offensive ways that I am acting 
 the part of a tyrant to you ; I am, after 
 all, a man of feeling — that is, I am not 
 entirely a log of wood, without sensation. 
 Matters have gone on most unpleasantly 
 for many months, until at length they have 
 come to a crisis, and I offer you what you 
 sigh for, your freedom. Upon this, you 
 accuse me of further cruelty. There is no 
 pleasing or satisfying you, one way or 
 another, and I am resolved that our rela- 
 tions shall come to an end or be placed 
 upon a better footing. What is more, I 
 will have no trickery. You have six hours 
 before you for decision. I shall remain
 
 198 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 about tlie inn till six o'clock ; if you do 
 not come to me before that hour is passed, 
 I shall adopt what course I deem best.' 
 
 " ' If,' I said timidly, ' I, being alone, 
 should by some good fortune find Clarice, 
 would you take her from me ? ' 
 
 '' ' She is my apprentice, and I can claim 
 her whenever I have the opportunity. I 
 can give you up more easily than I could 
 Clarice. But make your mind easy. 
 Without my aid, your chances of ever 
 seeing Clarice again would not be worth a 
 breath of air.' 
 
 " By this time we had reached the inn, 
 and there my master left me. 1 entered the 
 room in which I had been made a prisoner 
 the previous night, and endeavoured to 
 think ; but my mind was in a whirl, and 
 the narrow space seemed to add to my 
 confusion. 1 went into the open, and 
 under the better influence of sweet air, 
 which cooled my hot face, and bright skies, 
 which whispered hope and comfort, I 
 schooled myself into a calmer mood. I 
 did not forget that the good Lord was 
 over all, and that faith in Him would 
 surely help me in my great trouble. I 
 bowed my head and prayed, and my mind
 
 In a Silver Sea. 199 
 
 became clearer. That my master would 
 be as good as his word, and would give me 
 my freedom if I wished, I saw no reason to 
 doubt ; I was not so certain that he really 
 wished to rid himself of me, for if he 
 desired it, he could do so without difficulty, 
 by simply leaving me on the road. It 
 forced itself upon me that by accepting his 
 offer of liberty I should be depriving myself 
 of the only link that might lead me to 
 Clarice. It might be that the entire affair 
 was a trick — that he himself had planned 
 the separation, and had conducted matters 
 to their present crisis, so that I should of 
 my own doing destroy any claim I had 
 upon him, and leave him free to travel with 
 Clarice wherever he wished. I shuddered 
 at the thought. Helpless, friendless as I 
 was, the reflection that absolutely my only 
 chance of finding Clarice was by remaining 
 with my master and keeping watch over 
 him, grew gradually into a conviction. 
 To beat despairingly against the bars 
 would not assist me — coolness, watchful- 
 ness, submission might. Upon this deci- 
 sion I acted at once. I sought my 
 master, and found him, as usual, playing 
 cards with two or three village louts. He
 
 200 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 threw up tlie cards and came to me at 
 once. 
 
 *' ' I have made np my mind,' I said. 
 
 '' ' To what effect ? ' 
 
 " ' To remain with you.' 
 
 " ' And be submissive ? ' 
 
 "'Yes.' 
 
 '' ' You are wise, in your own interest, 
 perhaps not so much in mine. But I am 
 a man always prepared to do my duty. 
 I have drawn up two papers, in one of 
 which you ask for your freedom and I give 
 it to you, on the condition that you never 
 trouble me again. That, I tear up.' He 
 did so. ' This other paper is to the effect 
 that you bind yourself afresh to me, that, 
 in full knowledge of all the circumstances 
 that have passed, you are satisfied that my 
 conduct is that of an honourable man, and 
 that you promise to obey me in all reason- 
 able ways. Will you sign it ? ' 
 
 '' ' Yes. You will do your best to recover 
 Clarice ? ' 
 
 " ' I promise you.' 
 
 '' He called the landlord to witness my 
 signature, and thus I bound myself afresh 
 to an abhorred slavery. 
 
 " From that time to this I have never
 
 In a Silver Sea. 20 t 
 
 seen Clarice, nor am I acquainted witli the 
 smallest detail of her life since we were so 
 cruelly, so wickedly parted. My master 
 and I travelled from place to place in the 
 old way, and he made what use he could 
 of the gifts I possess. By my services we 
 have managed to live in a poor fashion ; 
 we might, I doubt not, have done better 
 so far as the earning of money goes, but 
 my master appears to have lost all spirit 
 since the fatal night from which my 
 thoughts never wander. He lays the 
 blame upon Clarice, and says that she has 
 ruined his career. For the first few 
 months my master used to come to me 
 with accounts of rumours he had heard 
 that a girl answering to the description of 
 Clarice had been seen in such or such a 
 place, and to that place we made all haste, 
 to learn that the rumours were false. My 
 master insists upon it that Clarice has been 
 stolen and sold to some travelling com- 
 pany, the manager of which takes pains to 
 avoid us, or that she is now in another 
 country, entirely out of our reach. Lately 
 he has treated me more harshly than he 
 has ever done before, and a dozen times 
 a day tells me I am the curse of his life.
 
 202 hi a Silver Sea. 
 
 But although I am frightened of him it 
 seems to me that I must remain with him 
 until he casts me from him, or until I am 
 dead. It is the only way in which I can 
 prove that I am faithful to Clarice. We 
 are now without food or money, and he 
 told me this afternoon that he could not 
 afford to pay for lodgment for us to-night. 
 That is why I am staying in this forest, 
 living upon a hope that is dead, and 
 tempted to believe that it would be better 
 for me to put an end to my life than linger 
 on in this state of exquisite suffering. It 
 is impossible for me to say whether my 
 master's story that Clarice has been stolen 
 from us is true or false ; it is impossible 
 for me to know whether he has ever uttered 
 one word of truth with relation to my dear, 
 my darling sister, and whether he has not 
 led me from place to place upon invented 
 rumours. My cup of sorrow is full, and 
 I do not know which way to turn for a 
 crumb of comfort."
 
 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WELCOME TO THE SILVER ISLE. 
 
 " This," said Matthew Sylvester to those 
 inhabitants of the Silver Isle whom he had 
 chosen to hear the story of Margaret, " is 
 the account I received from Maroaret's 
 lips of her trials and sufferings. As I 
 have told you, I wrote it down at her 
 dictation in after- times, with but little 
 alteration, so that some record should be 
 kept of what struck me as a very pitiful 
 and pathetic story. As I listened to her 
 that night in the forest my sympathy 
 for her was great. Every word she 
 uttered bore the impress of truth, and 
 only a thoroughly good woman could have 
 expressed such unselfish love and devo- 
 tion as she expressed for Clarice. Many 
 times in the course of the narration did 
 she stop and listen, thinking she heard the 
 step or the voice of her master, but lie did
 
 204 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 not make his appearance, and she finished 
 her story without interruption. If I had 
 not already gathered from her description 
 of her master that he was in heart and 
 soul an irreclaimable scoundrel, I should 
 have known it from the fact of his leaving 
 a young girl like Margaret alone and un- 
 protected in such a lonely spot ; it was the 
 act of a man devoid of common humanity. 
 But I had formed my idea of him long 
 before Margaret had finished, and my 
 experience of human nature enabled me to 
 arrive nearer to the truth with respect to 
 his dealing with Clarice than Margaret 
 could or dared suspect. With a true pity 
 for the forlorn and desolate girl, I made up 
 my mind to rescue her from her perilous 
 and wretched position. I asked her if, 
 when her master left her, he had pro- 
 mised soon to return, but she could give 
 no information beyond that he said he was 
 going into the town to endeavour to get 
 food or money. Upon that I pointed out 
 to her that it was not likely he would 
 return before morning, and that the best 
 thing she could do would be to accompany 
 me to the inn, and accept of my protection. 
 At first I could not persuade her; she
 
 In a Silver Sea. 205 
 
 feared ill-treatment in case her master 
 returned and did not find her. I pledged 
 her my word that she should not be ill- 
 treated, and said that my son and I would 
 protect her. 
 
 " ' I know more of the law than you do,' 
 I said, 'and I am convinced that I can re- 
 lease you from the tyranny of this villain. 
 That it is your best course to leave him I 
 am satisfied — as satisfied as I am that, if 
 you remain with him till death severs the 
 connection, you will never hear one true 
 word from his lips concerning your sister.' 
 
 " Her tears flowed at this bitter but 
 necessary assurance, and I stood by her 
 side in silence while she debated within 
 herself. Suddenly she turned her eyes full 
 upon my face, and said, — 
 
 " ' Why do yoLi urge me to this ? You 
 have never seen me before. What motive 
 have you for wishing me to leave my 
 master ? ' 
 
 " Margaret is a woman with a straight 
 mind, friends, as you will discover for your- 
 selves if we remain with you. I was pleased 
 at this rough frankness. 
 
 " 'My child,' I said to her in reply, ' I have 
 a sincere pity for you; you have stirred my
 
 2o6 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 heart. That in itself would be a sufficient 
 motive, but I have a more selfish one. My 
 son and I, leading just such a wandering life 
 as you have done, would find it lightened 
 and made happier if we had a woman with 
 us. I can see many pleasant ^Dictures in the 
 companionship. I will be a father to you, 
 my son shall be your brother. It is certain 
 you will receive from us affection and fair 
 treatment. You will earn your bread as we 
 do. You will not be a slave ; you will be 
 free to go if you find our company dis- 
 tasteful to you. We travel into parts of 
 the country where it is more likely you will 
 learn something of your sister, if there is 
 anything to learn, than you can possibly do 
 in your present circumstances. For the 
 rest, if you cannot read sincerity in my face 
 I am powerless to convince you of my 
 honesty of purpose.' 
 
 *' She placed her hand in mine, and 
 saying she would trust me, accompanied 
 me to the inn, where I made arrangements 
 for her repose. I was up early in the 
 morning, in the confident expectation of 
 seeing Margaret's master. Surely enough, 
 he accosted me the moment I put my face 
 outside the inn door.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 207 
 
 *' ' Yon brought a girl called Margaret 
 here last night,' he said. 
 
 " ' I did/ I replied. ' I brought her 
 from the forest, where you had left her 
 without food or protection. You cannot 
 justify yourself.' 
 
 " ' I am not called upon to do so by 
 you,' he retorted. ' T did not leave her 
 alone for longer than a quarter of an 
 hour.' 
 
 '' ' An untruth,' I said ; ' but that is not 
 to the point. I intend to take Margaret 
 from your charge. You are not fit to have 
 the care of a young girl, and this one shall 
 no longer remain with you.' 
 
 " I spoke boldly, knowing it was the 
 only way with such a man as he. 
 
 " ' How do you propose to deprive me 
 of my property ? ' he asked, with a covert 
 look at me, measuring my power, as it 
 were. 
 
 '* ' By purchase,' I said ; ' and if that is 
 not to your liking, by means which will 
 place you in the clutches of the law. 
 You are not in flourishing^ circum- 
 stances. How much for the release of this 
 girl ? Not, mark you, that I acknowledge 
 your right to her. I can prove the con-
 
 2o8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 trary, or a lawyer can do it for me ; but I 
 am willing to settle the matter amicably, 
 without the aid of a third person. Name 
 a sum, and let it be small, or you will get 
 nothing, for the release of Margaret. Such 
 a man as yourself does not want to be 
 encumbered with a woman who hates and 
 fears you. Name your price, and try your 
 luck with it at the nearest gaming-table.' 
 
 '' He caught at the bait, and named a sum 
 not beyond my means. I agreed to pay it to 
 him, and Ave adjourned for the purpose of 
 drawing up such an agreement as I con- 
 sidered binding. I saw that the fellow was 
 tired of Margaret, and that, setting aside 
 a small feeling of personal vindictiveness 
 which belonged to his mean nature, he was 
 glad of the opportunity of ridding himself 
 of her on terms so favourable. So as to 
 place Margaret entirely out of his power I 
 went to a notary, and had the agreement 
 attested ; in effect, it was a transfer of 
 apprenticeship, by which for a certain sum 
 Margaret's master relinquished all claim 
 upon her future services. This business 
 concluded, I said to the man, — 
 
 " * It is not likely you or I will ever 
 meet again ; if we are in the same neigh-
 
 In a Silver Sea. 209 
 
 bourhood, we shall be glad to avoid each 
 other. Do one gracious act. Tell me 
 what has become of Clarice, and whether 
 I can adopt any means to bring her and 
 Margaret together.' 
 
 " He eyed me narrowly, and said, ' I will 
 sell what I know.' 
 
 " ' You have some information to give, 
 then?' 
 
 '' ' I have.' 
 
 '^ I took from my pocket a gold piece, 
 and offered it to him, but the wretch was 
 greedy, and haggled ; however, by diplo- 
 matic conduct, I convinced him that I 
 would give no more, and he agreed to 
 accept it. 
 
 " ' How I know what I know,' he said, 
 ' is my secret, which no man can buy. 
 Only in one way can Margaret and Clarice 
 ever be brought together again.* 
 
 " ' Tell it me.' 
 
 " ' Death's way. Clarice is dead.' 
 
 " ' You are not lying ? ' I asked, shocked 
 and startled by the news, and by the 
 callous tone in which it was conveyed. 
 
 '' ' I have no purpose to serve. The 
 girl is dead.' 
 
 " * When did this occur ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 2IO In a Silver Sea, 
 
 '' ' Shortly after Clarice's disappearance. 
 I learnt it by accident.' 
 
 " ' Why did you not tell Margaret ? ' 
 
 '' ' I should have lost my hold upon her ; 
 there would have been no bearing with 
 her. She has troubled me enough.' 
 
 " I could get no further information 
 from him, and we parted, never to meet 
 again. 
 
 *' I determined to keep the news from 
 Margaret, at least for a time. All that I 
 told her upon my return to the inn was 
 that she was free, and that her master had 
 no further claim upon her. I was glad to 
 see that slie and Paul had already become 
 friends. 
 
 " ' You are now your own mistress,' I 
 said, ' and are at liberty to decide for 
 yourself. Will you join us ? We shall 
 soon discover whether we suit each 
 other.' 
 
 '' She replied that she was happy in the 
 prospect I held out to her, and so the 
 compact was made. 
 
 " The companionship was in every 
 respect agreeable, and we continued our 
 wandering life, living from hand to mouth, 
 seldom grumbling at the bad fortune
 
 In a Silver Sea. 2 1 1 
 
 wliicli pursued us and kept our pockets 
 empty. There were others worse off than 
 we were. It is a hard world out there, 
 friends ; harder for the weak than the 
 strong — harder, I beheve, for the pure at 
 heart than the cunning ones who avoid 
 the straight path upon which the full sun- 
 light shines. 
 
 " Then happened a natural thing. In 
 the springtime of life love-buds prepare to 
 blossom. Margaret and Paul were drawn 
 to each other, and sometimes, unconscious 
 to themselves, walked hand-in-hand. It 
 gladdened me to watch the growth of love 
 between two beings who were dear to me ; 
 for the more I learned of Margaret's 
 nature the better I appreciated her, and 
 the stronger grew my respect and admira- 
 tion for her character. Never for an hour 
 did she forget Clarice ; the dear name was 
 constantly on her lips. In the midst of 
 her enjoyment of the passing time she 
 would pause and sigh : ' Ah, if Clarice 
 were here ! ' and would reproach herself for 
 feeling light-hearted in the absence of her 
 beloved sister. Often did I ask myself 
 whether it would not be more merciful to 
 acquaint her with the truth, and as often 
 p 2
 
 212 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 did I shrink from the sad task. She had 
 one intense desire — to visit once more the 
 town in which Clarice had been torn from 
 her ; but her description of the place was 
 so vague that it was long before we were 
 enabled to decide in what direction it lay. 
 The moment we ascertained with some 
 degree of certainty, we directed our steps 
 thitherwards. At the same time I resolved 
 that when we reached that abode of sad 
 memories I would inform Margaret of her 
 sister's death. We arrived in the town, 
 and at Margaret's request I made inquiries 
 after Clarice. I might as well have spoken 
 in an unknown tongue. Not a soul re- 
 membered her, or could give the slightest 
 information with respect to her. The town 
 was a fashionable one, frequented by 
 tourists chiefly of the better class, who 
 flowed in and out like a constant tide. We 
 stayed there for three days, and when we 
 had left it behind us, I gently broke the 
 melancholy news to Margaret. I cannot 
 describe her grief ; it was so sharp and 
 despairing as to cause me for a time to fear 
 for her reason. Had she not been with us, 
 I believe she would have sought relief in 
 death. But love and sympathy lightened
 
 Ill a Silver Sea, 2 1 3 
 
 her sorrow, and in tlie course of time 
 she grew calmer. She will never forgiet 
 Clarice. Old as she may live to be, the 
 memory of that dearly-beloved sister will 
 never fade from her mind. 
 
 " Friends, I have but little more to say. 
 Margaret returned Paul's love, and they 
 were married. Fortune, as I have told 
 you, has not been kind to us, and Mar- 
 garet, who will soon become a mother, 
 yearned for a more peaceful life. Many 
 a time did I describe to her the sweet 
 repose I enjoyed here in my youthful days, 
 and at length decided to come and ask you 
 to receive us. It may be that the restless 
 career we have led may have unsettled 
 us for the quiet life of this lovely isle. 
 But let us try. Briefly let me say — 
 not in praise of ourselves, but as simple 
 matters of truth— that Margaret is a 
 woman who deserves to be loved, and that 
 since I last bade you farewell I have done 
 no act which should make me ashamed 
 to grasp the hands of old comrades in 
 
 friendship." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The islanders had listened to Matthew 
 Sylvester's story in silence and with earnest
 
 2 14 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 attention, and now tliat his recital was 
 finished, they rose and said, — 
 
 '' Kesnme your old-life place among us. 
 We welcome you and yours, Matthew 
 Sylvester."
 
 In a Silver Sea. 2 1 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 maegaret's dtaey, written in the silver 
 
 ISLE. 
 
 " After a lapse of eight peaceful years 
 the wound I received when a girl by the 
 loss of my darling Clarice, and which, but 
 for my dear husband and his father, would 
 assuredly have caused my death, has been 
 suddenly and strangely torn open. Not 
 that it is possible I could ever forget Clarice. 
 No ; to the last hour of my life she will be 
 with me in spirit, loved and mourned. But 
 the love of my family and the wise counsel 
 of Matthew Sylvester, whom I now call 
 father, have brought to my soul a resigna- 
 tion which has contributed to my enjoyment 
 of life and has enabled me to fulfil its duties. 
 The living have claims upon me as well as 
 the dead. My husband, Paul, our father, 
 he good Matthew, and my two dear chil- 
 dren, Joseph and Gabrielle, are with me.
 
 2 1 6 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 filling my life with cares and joys ; and now 
 there is another, a stranger, a child called 
 Evangeline, who has made my heart bleed 
 afresh. At times I feel that my dear sister 
 is by my side, and that I have but to turn, 
 to clasp her once more in my arms, and to 
 hear her sweet voice address me by the 
 name of Marguerite. 
 
 '' It is night. Our children and Evan- 
 geline are asleep ; my husband and father 
 are absent, and will not be home till late. 
 I have often intended, for my own guidance, 
 to place upon paper a brief statement of 
 the events affecting myself that have 
 occurred during my residence in this place, 
 together with impressions and fancies 
 which have strongly affected me. I will 
 take advantage of the present opportunity, 
 and will write down as clearly as I am able 
 a statement of what has passed since I first 
 set foot upon the shores of the Silver Isle. 
 
 '' From my window I can see the fate- 
 ful mountain with its snow-clad crown, 
 shunned by all on the isle, because of the 
 fearful story connected with it. The 
 legend of Evangeline and the two brothers 
 was related to me soon after my arrival on 
 the isle ; I was strangely fascinated by it.
 
 In a Silver" Sea. 217 
 
 By some imtenable process of thouglit I 
 connected the fate of Evangeline with that 
 of my dear sister Clarice ; there is no ex- 
 plainable reason for the connection, except 
 that they were both young and fair and 
 dearly beloved, and met their fate through 
 treachery. Looking out now, I see a 
 shadow moving up the heights. I cannot 
 clearly discern the figure, but I know it to 
 be the shadow of Ranf the deformed, who 
 brought the child Evangeline to this peace- 
 ful land, and left her in my care. No 
 other being would have the courage to 
 tread the upward path. 
 
 "I think, but for my urging, we should 
 have remained in the old world, and 
 at this present moment be following our 
 wandering life. But the accounts of this 
 isle related to me from time to time by 
 Matthew Sylvester took a powerful hold 
 of my imagination. The land he described 
 was more like dreamland than reality, and 
 it was at my earnest solicitation we came. 
 I was harassed by the uncertainties of our 
 career; our fortunes were too often at a 
 low ebb, and I expected in a few months 
 to become 'a mother. I thought it would 
 be a happy augury for my child to be born
 
 2 1 8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 in a land of peace, within hail of kind souls 
 who, if anything happened to me, would, 
 for the sake of Matthew, protect the inno- 
 cent being from the storms of the world. 
 So with many a sigh (for there had been 
 happiness as well as anxiety in our days) 
 we bade adieu to old associations, and 
 turned our faces hitherwards. 
 
 " The manner in which we were received 
 did not please me, and I was beset by 
 fears that I had been unwise in my desire. 
 The isle was fair and beautiful, but there 
 was a restraint in the bearing of the 
 islanders, who, while welcoming Matthew 
 Sylvester and my husband as friends having 
 a claim upon them, appeared to regard 
 me with coldness. Stranger as I was, I 
 expected that they would immediately hold 
 out to me the cordial hand, because of my 
 relations with the Sylvesters. In this I 
 was unreasonable. It was natural that 
 they should wait to learn from personal 
 experience whether I was worthy of their 
 friendship, which, as I now know, once 
 given is never withdrawn without just 
 cause. The men and women of this isle 
 are of a more simple and therefore higher 
 nature than those of the countries in which
 
 In a Silver Sea. 219 
 
 my life liad hitherto been passed. They 
 do not live only for the hour ; the interest 
 they take in each other is earnest and 
 enduring, and I hold them in high regard. 
 The feeling is mutual, I hope, but before I 
 was satisfied of its existence on their part, 
 I was unhappy. 
 
 " The fault was in myself. I held my 
 feehngs in reserve, and even when the 
 women came to me, on the first night of 
 our arrival, with gifts of food and offers 
 of assistance, I received them, I am afraid, 
 in an ungracious spirit. They did not, 
 however, relax in their kind endeavours 
 to make me feel at home among them. 
 Still I was not softened ; I experienced a 
 kind of resentment at the thought that 
 I was in a certain way on my trial before 
 the islanders. I expressed this to my 
 husband. 
 
 " ' It will be honest, Paul, that I should 
 show them the worst side of my nature. 
 They will not then be able to say that I 
 practised deceit.' 
 
 " ' Be yourself, Margaret,' replied my 
 husband ; ' what you feel, show. Of all 
 the places in the world, this is the last 
 in which a man should wear a mask.
 
 2 20 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 wliether for attraction or repulsion. Do 
 justice to us and to yourself.' 
 
 " ' In what way ? ' 
 
 " ' By being natural.' 
 
 " Upon Matthew's return on that first 
 night from his long interview with his 
 friends, in which I understood he had 
 given an account of our wanderings, and, 
 I doubt not, some flattering descriptions 
 of me (which again caused resentment in 
 me), he told us that the welcome accorded 
 to us was genuine and hearty, and that 
 the house we now occupy was to be ours 
 as long as we choose to remain. It is a 
 large and most beautiful residence, perhaps 
 the best on the Silver Isle, and the fact 
 of its being given so generously, should 
 have convinced me of the goodness of the 
 islanders ; but I was in a rebellious, 
 querulous mood that night. The house 
 belongs to a gentleman named Mauvain, 
 who sought refuge on the isle when he 
 was in danger of his life through political 
 troubles, and when he leffc, after a sojourn 
 of many years, he gave the islanders free 
 use of it until he or some person authorized 
 by him should appear to claim it. In that 
 event, although I shall be sorry to change
 
 In a Silver Sea. 2 2 1 
 
 my residence, having grown attached to 
 the home, it will not be a matter of serious 
 importance to us. We are now in a posi- 
 tion to build a house for ourselves, having 
 become so by our own labour. 
 
 " That was a momentous question. 
 How were we to live ? 
 
 " ' We cannot eat the bread of idleness,' 
 I said. 
 
 " ' Surely not,' said Matthew merrily. 
 * What, then, shall we do ? Make a start 
 with drum and castanets ? How they 
 would gape and stare to hear us mouth 
 and rant ! We should have an audience, 
 Margaret ; the children would run after 
 us all over the isle.' 
 
 " ' And their mothers,' I said, with a 
 grimace, ' would ever after lock them up 
 the moment we showed our faces. How- 
 ever, I believe I shall never be contented 
 here until we show ourselves to your 
 friends in our true colours. They must 
 know us as we are, father.' 
 
 '' ' I am of your mind, Margaret. I do 
 not intend to give up old ways entirely ; 
 I have my plans in more ways than 
 one. But make your mind easy ; our 
 path is clear before us. Trust Matthew
 
 2 2 2 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 Sylvester. He has not roamed the world 
 for nothing/ 
 
 " Then he explained how his father had 
 been a famous fisherman, and had taught 
 him the cunning of the art, and how, 
 during his absence from the Silver Isle, 
 he had taken attentive note of the better 
 kind of fishing-tackle used in the countries 
 they had travelled over. 
 
 "• ' We will teach them this and other 
 things,' said Matthew, 'both useful and 
 entertaining. I can show them rare im- 
 provements in rod and reel, and especially 
 in the art of making artificial flies. I 
 have spoken of it already, and my ideas 
 have been well received. Paul and I will 
 set to work presently.' 
 
 " They went to work at once, and we 
 were soon placed in a position of indepen- 
 dence. These seem trivial matters to 
 mention here, but they were serious to 
 me at the time, and I took them much to 
 heart. 
 
 "It troubled me that for a time only 
 elderly people visited our house. I love 
 the society of the young, and it pained me 
 that the children of the isle did not seek 
 my friendship. I cannot describe how
 
 In a Silver Sea, 223 
 
 gentle and patient Matthew was with me 
 during these rebellious moods. He schooled 
 me to patience and to a better understand- 
 ing of things, and insisted that his friends 
 showed a wise discretion in their beha- 
 viour. 
 
 " ' Sudden affection,' he said, ' is not the 
 most lasting. The people of the isle build 
 upon sure foundations, and for my part I 
 am satisfied with their conduct. But our 
 first consideration is your happiness. The 
 world is open to us to return to it if we 
 choose, and choose we shall, if you are not 
 contented here. Let us, however, give the 
 new life a fair trial, and not burden it with 
 fancied ills. Precious stones have often 
 been thrown away in haste. Trust me? 
 Margaret ; if you are patient, you will win 
 both old and young.' 
 
 ''His words, thank God, proved true. 
 Gradually the people grew to love me, and 
 trusted their children with me. Their 
 hearts were not hard to win, and our 
 house became their favourite resort. Then 
 I had a new care and joy to occupy my 
 mind ; my baby would soon be born. 
 
 "I yearned for a girl, whom I could love 
 as I had loved Clarice. I fondly hoped that
 
 2 24 ^^^ ^ Silver Sea, 
 
 my child would resemble Clarice, and indeed 
 believed it would be so. 
 
 " ' We will call her Clarice,' said my 
 husband. 
 
 "I would not have it so. My child 
 should not bear my sister's name ; it might 
 carry with it a bad omen. 
 
 " But my firstborn was a boy, and we 
 named him Joseph. I felt no disappoint- 
 ment ; I was fully, perfectly happy. He 
 did not resemble me in feature ; he 
 favoured my husband's family. 
 
 " From this time it was that I began to 
 be assured of the enduring affection of the 
 islanders. Had I been closely allied to 
 them by blood, they could not have shown 
 me greater kindness. My mind was more 
 composed ; my joy in my child was great, 
 and I said to my husband, — 
 
 *' ' I shall be content to live and die 
 upon this happy isle.' 
 
 " This better state of contentment had 
 its origin partly in a dream I dreamt 
 shortly after I became a mother. 
 
 '* A dearer life than mine was in my 
 arms ; gazing upon my child with an 
 exquisite sense of gratitude to God, I fell 
 into a happy sleep.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 225 
 
 *' A fair white snow-land rose before 
 me, high up in the heavens. It was the 
 basin of eternal snow I see now from my 
 window. All the world was asleep, and 
 this lovely work of Nature rose before me 
 in perfect peace and purity. Beyond it 
 stretched the calm and beautiful ocean. 
 Not a ripple disturbed its breast. No 
 sound fell upon my ears, not the rustle of 
 a leaf. 
 
 " Thus I lay, as it seemed for hours, 
 with a heaven of rest in my heart. 
 
 " Suddenly I saw a figure standing 
 upon the peak of the snow-mountain, the 
 figure of a girl clad in white, with a girdle 
 of roses round her waist. I knew it to be 
 the figure of that Evangeline with whose 
 sad story I had been made familiar. She 
 turned towards me, and pointed to the 
 ocean, upon whose eastern edge a golden 
 light was rising. And in that golden 
 hght another figure appeared, the figure 
 of Clarice. 
 
 " Across the sea she came, with the 
 spreading of golden beams, until she 
 reached the snow-land upon which Evan- 
 geline stood. Then, hand in hand, they 
 gazed at me with tender smiles, and sank 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 /;/ a Silver Sea. 
 
 into the basin of snow, wliicli now lay like 
 a ruby cup in tlie eye of the rising sun. 
 
 " I was comforted at tlie time by this 
 dream. It was as though Clarice were 
 with me upon the Silver Isle. The sea no 
 longer separated us. 
 
 " This comforting impression was not 
 permanent. Fancies of a gloomier nature 
 have since oppressed me, and nearly all, 
 strange to say, connected in some way 
 with the mountain of snow. Sometimes 
 Clarice seemed to reproach me for having 
 deserted her ; but what could I do ? 
 Would I not have sacrificed my life for her ? 
 Oh, my dear, dear sister ! what trials were 
 yours before your sufferings were ended 
 by death ! Shall I ever learn the history 
 of your sad fate ? 
 
 " It is but lately she appeared to me in 
 a terrible dream. She had grown old, 
 haggard, wrinkled, and was dragging her 
 weary feet over a stony road, leaving 
 behind her marks of blood. She was 
 hungry, and parched with thirst. I ran 
 towards her with a cup of water, calling, 
 ' Clarice ! Clarice ! ' She turned at my 
 cry, and dashed the cup of water from my 
 hands. ' You betrayed and deserted me ! '
 
 In a Silver Sea. 227 
 
 s"he cried. 'I am not dead. I am living 
 in hopeless misery ! ' 
 
 " Thank God, it was only once she 
 appeared to me in this guise ! Were such 
 dreams frequent, they would drive me 
 mad. 
 
 " In setting: down these fancies in this 
 place I am losing the sequence of eveuts. 
 I must return to the time when my baby 
 was born. 
 
 '^ He was three months old, and I was 
 in perfect health, when Matthew informed 
 me that he had written a play which he 
 intended we should represent to our 
 friends. He had mentioned the matter 
 to them, and although a few of the elder 
 people had doubts, he had argued them 
 down, and tbey not only consented that 
 the experiment should be made, but 
 promised to be present on the occasion. 
 
 " It was, after all, an innocent experi- 
 ment, and was the means of introducing 
 a new kind of arausement into the Silver 
 Isle. 
 
 " During my illness Paul and Matthew 
 
 had transformed a large spare room into 
 
 a miniature theatre, had raised a stage, 
 
 fixed a curtain, and painted a scene in 
 
 Q 2
 
 22 8 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 wliicli the action of onr little play was to 
 occur. We were all anxious as well as 
 curious concerning the result, and on the 
 appointed evening our house was filled 
 with visitors. The old people were grave, 
 the young were in a flutter of excitement. 
 Such an entertainment had never been 
 given upon the Silver Isle. The room was 
 well lio-hted, and there were seats for 
 more than a hundred persons. 
 
 "What were tbe feelings of the 
 islanders as they sat in mute expectation 
 before the green curtain it is impossible 
 for me to say. I know what mine were. 
 I felt inclined to laugh and cry at the same 
 time. 
 
 " The play was a very simple affair. 
 The characters represented were a sailor 
 and his wife, allotted to Paul and me, and 
 an old sailor, played by Matthew. Our 
 baby also took part in the performance. 
 The scene was a room in the young sailor's 
 house near the sea-coast. Happiness and 
 contentment reigned in the humble house- 
 hold. The young husband was on the eve 
 of departure on a voyage which was ex- 
 pected to last eight or nine weeks. There 
 was pleasant talk about the sea, in Ian-
 
 In a Silver Sea. 229 
 
 guage really poetical, between tlie three 
 of us. This was to be my busband's last 
 voyage ; upon his return he would have 
 enough money to buy a fishing-boat, which 
 was to supply the future means of liveli- 
 hood. After a tender parting he left us, 
 saying he would be with us again before 
 baby was born. ' And what is baby's 
 name to be ? ' asked the old sailor. Out- 
 side was heard the distant voice of my 
 husband, singing a song of farewell. I 
 answered him in his favourite song. This 
 ended the first part of the play. 
 
 " From the buzz of delight we heard 
 among the audience, we augured that we 
 were producing a pleasing effect. The 
 second part commenced at the time ray 
 husband's ship was expected home. The 
 old sailor and I indulged in fond anticipa- 
 tions, and mapped out a happy future. 
 The old sailor left me to endeavour to pick 
 up some news about my husband. ' I will 
 bring him back with me,' he said. While 
 he was absent I arranged the room in the 
 way that would give my husband most 
 pleasure. I had bought tobacco for him 
 and a new pipe, and had knitted him a 
 purse, which I placed upon the table in a
 
 230 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 dozen different ways, so as to make them 
 attractive in his eyes, singing softly to 
 myseii: as I shifted the things this way and 
 that. The door was slowly opened, and 
 the old sailor entered, alone. Had he 
 heard news of my husband ? He answered 
 softly, yes. Then he would be here soon, 
 or perhaps he was hiding behind the door ? 
 I ran to the door and opened it. My hus- 
 band was not there. Then gradually the 
 sad news was told. I should never see my 
 husband more. His ship bad been wrecked, 
 and every soul on board lost. The curtain 
 fell upon an outburst of passionate grief. 
 
 " ' You have touched them, Margaret,' 
 said Matthew ; ' half the house is in tears.' 
 
 " There had been another lapse of time 
 when the curtain was drawn aside for the 
 last part of the play. My baby was born, 
 and I sat with him on my lap, singing of 
 the cruel sea which had robbed him of his 
 father. The old sailor could not comfort 
 me ; charged with the happy news which 
 was to make the play end with smiles 
 instead of tears, he did not know how to 
 impart it to me, for fear the sudden shock 
 of happiness might hurt my reason. He 
 adopted a score of expedients which
 
 In a Silver Sea. 231 
 
 raised tlie excitement of the audience to a 
 Hgli pitcli, and at length prevailed upon 
 me to sing the song I sang when my 
 husband went away. I complied in a 
 tremulous voice, and was on the point of 
 breaking down when, upon the waving of 
 a handkerchief by the old sailor out of the 
 window, my husband's voice answered me. 
 The end came soon, and we were all again 
 happily united. 
 
 '' This simplest of simple stories went to 
 the hearts of the islanders, and from that 
 night it has been a custom with us three 
 or four times during the year to give 
 similar representations for the pleasure of 
 ourselves and our friends. I was more 
 than satisfied with the result ; we had 
 shown ourselves in our true colours, and 
 had won approval. 
 
 " At this time there traded to the isle 
 a brig whose captain was anxious to 
 supply many articles which he said would 
 be of use to the islanders. The brig, as I 
 understood, was supposed to belong to 
 Mauvain, and its visits were always re- 
 garded as an event in the peaceful land. 
 A proposition was made by the captain 
 that he should employ a sculptor to cut a
 
 232 III a Silver Sea. 
 
 statue in marble of tliat Evangeline whose 
 memory is cherished by the islanders, and 
 that it should be erected in the market- 
 place as a lasting memorial of the wonder- 
 ful and terrible legend connected with the 
 mountain of snow. He was to receive in 
 payment a certain weight of silver ex- 
 tracted from a silver-mine discovered by 
 Mauvain during his residence on the isle. 
 The proposition was accepted, and the 
 commission was given. There existed on 
 the isle no picture of Evangeline which 
 would guide the sculptor to a faithful 
 execution of his task, and the portrait and 
 figure of a young and beautiful girl who 
 was often at our house was drawn by an 
 artist, and given to the captain of the 
 brig. There was a great deal of talk and 
 much conversation among the islanders 
 concerning this commission, and curiosity 
 was raised as to the manner in which it 
 would be executed. When the captain, 
 who came once in every year, was expected 
 with the statue, I was also in expectation 
 of a new arrival — my second child, 
 Gabrielle. She was born, and was but 
 three days old, when my husband informed 
 me that the brig had come and gone, and
 
 In a Silver Sea. 233 
 
 that the statue of Evangeline was erected in 
 the market-place. I had lost interest in 
 it, being occupied with my baby, to the 
 exclusion of all other subjects. It de- 
 lighted me beyond measure that I had now 
 a girl to rear and cherish. Still I adhered 
 to my resolution not to call the child 
 Clarice. I chose Gabrielle, a name, my 
 husband told me, derived from that hero 
 of God who strengthened Daniel and 
 brought the promise to Zacharias and to 
 the blessed Virgin. 
 
 " ' It is also,' said Paul, ' a promise of 
 beauty, for there was once a Gabriellcj 
 whose rare graces gave an immortal repu- 
 tation to one of the greatest countries in 
 the world.' 
 
 " But I cared more that my child should 
 be good than beautiful. The sad reflection 
 has occurred to my mind that beauty is a 
 misfortune ; it is most certainly a perilous 
 and sometimes a fatal gift. 
 
 " That my child Gabrielle resembles my 
 sister Clarice may be bred by my fancy, 
 for Gabrielle is dark, Clarice was fair. 
 
 " When I was strong enough, Matthew 
 took me to the market-* place, and showed 
 me the statue of Evangeline. I gazed at
 
 2 34 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 it in a kind of worship, and yet with terror 
 and amazement. It fascinated me, and I 
 could not remove my eyes from the beau- 
 tiful and perfect work. 
 
 " ' It appears,' said Matthew, ' to remind 
 you of a woman you have seen.' 
 
 *' ' It does,' I replied ; ' it reminds me of 
 my sister. Were it not impossible — ' 
 
 " I paused ; the wildness of the thought 
 arrested my speech. Matthew prompted 
 me. 
 
 " ' Yes. Were it not impossible — ' 
 
 " * I should declare that the sculptor 
 who modelled those features had a living 
 being before him, and that that being was 
 Clarice.'
 
 Ill a Silver Sea. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION OF MARGARET' S DIARY. 
 
 " Matthew strove to reason me out of this 
 wild idea, saying tliat it was as irrational 
 as ever entered a woman's brain. 
 
 "At my earnest request, however, he 
 made inquiries concerning the sculptor, 
 whose name could not be ascertained; 
 but had the result of his inquiries been 
 different, no useful purpose would have 
 been served. It could not have brought 
 the dead from the grave. 
 
 '' Since that time, until the occurrence 
 of an event of which I shall presently speak, 
 my days have flowed on calmly and peace- 
 fdly, disturbed only by those memories 
 of the past with which Clarice is associated.' 
 I keep this suffering to myself ; it would 
 be ungrateful in me to ask those around 
 me to^'share it with me. No woman could 
 have a kinder husband or a wiser father
 
 236 /;/ a Silver Sea. 
 
 than I have. My children are healthy and 
 well-formed, and are a constant source of 
 joy in our house. In feature Joseph re- 
 sembles his grandfather Matthew; he is 
 bold and determined, and can be swayed 
 only through his affections. Matthew 
 says suffering is in store for him, because 
 of his sensitive spirit. Gabrielle is like 
 me, dark and rough ; she has a hot temper, 
 and is sometimes diflS.cult to control. Their 
 grandfather, who takes great delight in 
 them, avers that they are vagrants by 
 nature, as he was before them. 
 
 '' ' I hope not,' I said ; ' I should not 
 like to think that they will be tossed about 
 the world, as we have been.' 
 
 " ' What is in the future for them,' said 
 Matthew gravely, ' neither you nor I can 
 tell. I have heard you and Paul talk 
 together of the kind of life the children 
 are to lead, how they are to grow up and 
 marry and have children, who with them- 
 selves are never to leave the Silver Isle. 
 All that can be said in favour of such con- 
 versations is that they are the harmless 
 expression of harmless ideas.' 
 
 " ' They are not unreasonable. Why 
 should parents not be able, especially in a
 
 In a Silver Sea. 237 
 
 land so peaceful and retired as tliis, to 
 predict with certainty tlie kind of life their 
 children are to live ? ' 
 
 '' ' Because, Margaret,' replied Matthew, 
 ' it is impossible to set exact rules of life 
 for this or that person, however closely 
 allied they may be to us. The seed being 
 put into the ground, no one can say with 
 certainty whether the tree will incline to 
 the right or the left ; least of all can it be 
 predicted in which direction the branches 
 will shoot out." 
 
 " The children are of our blood.' 
 
 '' ' That is just it, and our blood is 
 vagrant blood. All we can do, simple one, 
 is to assist nature in the way we deem best 
 for those we love. We are the creatures 
 of circumstance — your own story proves it. 
 A dozen years ago could you have foretold 
 the present ? And do you beheve now 
 that you can see the future ? ' 
 
 " * Our future is clear,' I said. ' Ad- 
 venture no longer plays a part in our 
 lives.' 
 
 ^' ' Easy to say so. Startling as the 
 phases are through which we have passed, 
 others as strange may occur before the 
 next twelve years are gone. These matters
 
 238 hi a Silver Sea. 
 
 are not within our control. At this 
 present moment men may be moving 
 towards us from some distant part of the 
 world, bringing joy or woe into our lives, 
 despite all our efforts to shape our own 
 ends.' 
 
 '' When Joseph was seven years of age 
 and Gabrielle four, an event occurred in 
 the isle, which may make Matthew's words 
 prophetic. On an autumn day a schooner 
 came to the isle. I should have gone out 
 to hear the news, but I had much to do at 
 home, and rarely as the isle is visited by a 
 ship, the event is of no personal importance 
 to me. There are times when I shrink 
 from the sHghtest contact with the world 
 beyond these shores. 
 
 " I was alone in the house. Joseph and 
 Gabrielle were in the fields ; Matthew and 
 my husband were absent on a fishing ex- 
 pedition, and were not to return till the 
 following morning. My children came 
 home for their evening meal ; they were 
 flushed with delight, and prattled excitedly 
 of the pleasures of an afternoon spent 
 among their playfellows. They are both 
 mimics ; Matthew says they have dramatic 
 power in them, and that were we living in
 
 In a Silver Sea, 239 
 
 the world, he would educate them for the 
 stage. They certainly possess a great gift ; 
 Joseph reads aloud with wonderful mean- 
 ing, and many childish scenes of their own 
 creation are depicted by them for our edi- 
 fication. Their grandfather encourages 
 them, and frequently takes part in these 
 amusing representations. 
 
 '* ' Mother,' said Joseph, when our meal 
 was finished and cleared away, * ask us 
 questions ? ' 
 
 " ' About what ? ' 
 
 " ' About the ship.' 
 
 " ' You saw it, Joseph ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, and Gabrielle too. We were on 
 the beach.' 
 
 " ' I gave him some fruit,' said Ga- 
 brielle quickly, ' and he whispered, " Thank 
 you, little maid." His voice was no 
 louder than that.' 
 
 " She had finished her speech before 
 Joseph could stop her. 
 
 " ' You are telling it all wrong ! ' he 
 cried ; ' we have not come to that yet. 
 Go on, mother.' 
 
 " ' And did a boat come ashore? ' I asked. 
 
 '''Mother,' interposed Gabrielle again, 
 " am I a little maid ? '
 
 240 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " ' Yes, Gabrielle. Let Joseph speak.' 
 
 " ' He wants it all,' pouted Gabrielle. 
 
 " ' You stall do your part directly,' 
 said Joseph, with dignity, ' if you are 
 quiet and good. Yes, mother, a boat 
 came ashore.' 
 
 " ' And the captain landed.' 
 
 '' ' It was a different captain from the 
 others. He was better-looking and more 
 gentle. He wore beautiful rings, and had 
 a diamond in his shirt. He walked like 
 this.' 
 
 " My boy sauntered languidly to and 
 fro, pretended to dangle a cane from his 
 fingers, and looked about him with a 
 supercilious air. Ordinary captains were 
 not in the habit of walking thus, and I 
 saw that he intended to represent a gentle- 
 man. Gabrielle clapped her hands. 
 
 " ' Then,' continued Joseph, ' he wanted 
 to know if the isle was full of children 
 who never grew any older. I did not like 
 that. Did you, Gabrielle ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' answered my little girl ; ' I want 
 to be a woman, like mother, and have two 
 children, Gabrielle and Joseph, and Joseph 
 shall do everything Gabrielle asks him.' 
 
 " ' You are foolish,' was Joseph's re-
 
 In a Silver Sea. 24 1 
 
 sponse ; * men are the masters — except 
 mother. That is why the gentleman 
 asked us to take him to the fields, where 
 the men were working.' 
 
 " ' What occurred after that, Joseph ? ' 
 
 '' ' We followed him to the fields, and 
 he threw himself upon the hay, and while 
 some one went for Father Sebastian, 
 Gabrielle and the other little girls and 
 women gave him some fruit.' 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Gabrielle, ' and he said in 
 a sleepy voice, '' Thank you, little maid." 
 
 " ' After that,' said Joseph, ' we went 
 down to the beach, and looked at the boat. 
 It was a long time before the gentleman 
 came back. Then he got into the boat, 
 and was rowed to the ship, and he came 
 back again, bringing a fairy and a 
 monster.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean, Joseph ? ' 
 
 " * We will show you. Come along, 
 Gabrielle ; you shall be the fairy, I am the 
 monster.' 
 
 " They ran to the door, and presently 
 returned, hand in hand. Gabrielle was 
 simply Gabrielle, but Joseph was trans- 
 formed. His legs were crooked, his head 
 was shrunk into his shoulders, one of which 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 was higher than the other, his hair was 
 rouofh, and as he walked towards me he 
 threw suspicious looks about him. 
 
 '' ' He was just like that, mother,' said 
 Joseph, straightening himself; 'I never 
 saw such a man. What had he to do with 
 the fairy ? ' 
 
 " ' I do not know, Joseph. The poor 
 man is a cripple, perhaps. You should 
 not mock him ; it is wrong. I have seen 
 some who are much to be pitied. Was 
 the little ofirl frio:htened of him ? ' 
 
 " * Oh, no ; she seemed to be fond of 
 him.' 
 
 " ' That is a proof that he is not bad. 
 What has become of them ? ' 
 
 " ' They are here.' 
 
 " * On the isle ? ' 
 
 "*Yes,' 
 
 " ' And the gentleman ? ' 
 
 " ' He went back to his ship. Now, 
 mother, we have told you everything. 
 Eead to us.' 
 
 *' * I retired early to rest on that night, 
 and about midnight was awakened by a 
 sound which I fancied I heard outside the 
 house. I arose and looked into the bed- 
 room of my children, the door of which
 
 In a Silver Sea. 243 
 
 opened into my own. The children were 
 sleeping soundly. I went to bed again, 
 and again I fancied I heard the sound, 
 which resembled that of a man or an 
 animal moving in the garden. I dressed 
 myself immediately, and went into the 
 open air. The night was beautiful, and a 
 full moon was shining. I walked around 
 the house, and paused at a little distance 
 from a shed built by my husband at the 
 back of our house. I thought I saw a 
 movement among the shadows, and I called 
 in a loud voice, — 
 
 " ' Is any one there ? ' 
 
 '* A strange voice answered me. ' Aye, 
 mistress.' And a man emerged from the 
 shadows. The moment he came into the 
 light I recognized the cripple of whom 
 Joseph had given me a representation. 
 
 " I am not a timid woman. When 
 called upon, I think I am capable of show- 
 ing a courage of which a man need not be 
 ashamed. This I believe to be a quality 
 of my nature, but if it were not, there is 
 no cause for fear upon this isle where 
 crime is rare. 
 
 " The man who stood or crouched 
 before me, looking up into my face, was 
 E 2
 
 244 ' In a Silver Sea. 
 
 a dwarf, with strong missliapen limbs and 
 nothing in his face to recommend him. I 
 saw that he was tired and in want of rest, 
 but he seemed to be making an endeavour 
 to conceal his state of physical weariness 
 from my searching gaze, and to arouse in 
 me a feeling of repulsion by a scornful, 
 defiant demeanour. He was not success- 
 ful. My feeling for him was entirely one 
 of commiseration. 
 
 " ' You are the man who came to the 
 isle to-day,' I said. 
 
 " ' You know me, then, mistress ? * 
 
 " ' I heard of you to-night from my 
 children.' 
 
 " ' You were not among those who 
 welcomed me.' 
 
 «' ' I knew nothing of you until my 
 children told me.' 
 
 " He appeared to derive satisfaction 
 from my replies. ' I thought I did not see 
 you among these liberal-minded folk.' 
 
 " ' What do you want here at this time ? ' 
 
 " ' A roof ! ' he answered. 
 
 '' ' No house in the isle would refuse you 
 shelter.' 
 
 " ' I preferred to seek shelter for myself.' 
 
 " ' Where is the child ? '
 
 In a Silver Sea. 245 
 
 " ' Evangeline ? Sleeping in a warm 
 bed, I hope, in one Father Sebastian's 
 house. Satisfied of that, I left her, to 
 shift for myself. This is Man vain' s pro- 
 perty ? ' 
 
 "'Yes.' 
 
 " ' I was curious to see it. May I sleep 
 in that shed ? ' 
 
 " ' Surely not there. Come into the 
 house ; I will give you a bed.' 
 
 " ' And an honest welcome ? ' 
 
 " ' And an honest welcome. My husband 
 is absent, but he will approve.' 
 
 " ' You are one in a thousand,' he said, 
 in a voice more gentle than he had hitherto 
 used, ' and I thank you. I cannot accept 
 your offer. Give me leave to sleep in the 
 shed.' 
 
 " ' You are welcome to the best I have ; 
 that is the worst.' 
 
 " ' The worst is good enough for me. 
 I shall not disturb you. Do not be 
 frightened if you hear me move about. 
 I am going to see whether the sliip that 
 brought me here is out of sight." 
 
 " While he was gone, I brought from 
 the house a mattress and bed-coverings. 
 These I made up into a bed, and placed
 
 246 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 by its side food and water. The dwarf 
 returned just at the finish of my task. 
 
 " ' You have given yourself needless 
 trouble,' was his remark ; ' I can sleep on 
 the earth.' 
 
 " ' There is no need,' I said carelessly, 
 in a tone of assumed indifference ; * one 
 may as well accept the comforts of life 
 when they are within reach. Time 
 enough for hardships when we cannot 
 avoid them.' 
 
 " His piercing gaze searched my face 
 for the true meaning to my words. What 
 he gathered from the mute inquiry it is 
 difficult to say, but I entertained for him 
 no feeling but one of pity. 
 
 " ' You are unlike the women of the isle 
 I have seen,' he remarked. 
 
 " ' There is not one who would do less 
 for you than I have done. Good-night.' 
 
 " ' Stay, or I shall think you begrudge 
 what you offer. You are unlike them in 
 appearance, I mean.' 
 
 " ' I was not born on the isle.' 
 
 " ' How long have you lived here ? ' 
 
 " ' Seven years and more.' 
 
 " ' You are almost as much a stranger 
 here as I am, then. Step a little into
 
 In a Silver Sea, 247 
 
 tlie liglit ; I want to see you more 
 clearly.* 
 
 " I humoured him, and moved to a part 
 of the ground where the full light of the 
 moon had free play. 
 
 ''As I stood there, with his eyes upon 
 me, I became suddenly conscious that my 
 senses were leaving me ; landscape and 
 sky appeared to be fading from my sight. 
 I aroused myself by a determined effort ; 
 the blurred figure of the dwarf became 
 clear again, and he was speaking, — 
 
 " ' There is a perfume in the air to which 
 I am not accustomed ; it beguiles my 
 senses. Where have I seen your face ? 
 In a dream ? As if I have not had enough 
 of dreams ! Stay but for another moment; 
 I will not harm you. That mountain 
 of snow yonder, with its white mists 
 moving like monster clouds. Is it in- 
 habited ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,* I replied, and the answer 
 seemed to be forced from me, ' by the 
 spirits of the dead.* 
 
 " ' A proper place for the dead. There 
 is yet one thing more before I say good- 
 night. I brought a child with me to the 
 isle.'
 
 248 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 " ' I know — Evangeline.' 
 
 " ' No fairer child lives on earth. She 
 needs a home, and she must have one with 
 a woman I can trust. Gro to Father 
 Sebastian's house to-morrow, and, if you 
 are drawn to the child, adopt her as one of 
 your own. It will be a good thing done, 
 but do not undertake it if you feel you 
 cannot love Evangeline. Promise me.' 
 
 " * I promise you.' 
 
 " ' I accept your hospitality. Good- 
 night.' 
 
 " ' Good-night.' 
 
 " He went into the shed, and I into my 
 house, with no thought in my mind but 
 of him and Evangeline. When I slept I 
 dreamt of him and of the child I had not 
 yet seen. 
 
 " Early in the morning my husband and 
 Matthew returned home from their fishing 
 
 o 
 
 expedition, and at my request accompanied 
 me to the house of Father Sebastian. On 
 our way I told them my purpose, and 
 they expressed their acquiescence in my 
 purpose with regard to Evangeline. Be- 
 fore we started Ave looked into the shed 
 for the dwarf. He was gone, and we saw 
 nothing of him on the road.
 
 In a Silver Sea. 249 
 
 " To Father Sebastian I explained 
 the object of our visit, and he sent for 
 the child, saying that my proposal re- 
 quired less consideration than if it had 
 proceeded from any other inhabitant of the 
 isle. 
 
 " ' It is fitting,' said Father Sebastian, 
 ' that she should find a home with you, in 
 the house belonging to Mauyain. She is 
 a charge from Mauyain himself. This 
 letter will explain how it has come about. 
 Upon its receipt yesterday I, without 
 knowing to what it referred, accepted the 
 trust in the name of the islanders. My 
 surprise was great when I saw the child 
 and her strange companion ; but I had no 
 intention of going from my word.' 
 
 " Matthew read Mauyain' s letter aloud. 
 It was to the effect that he sent by a 
 friend named Harold — the gentleman, I 
 supposed, of whom my little Joseph gaye 
 me a representation the previous night — a 
 trust which he confided to the islanders, 
 and that he might come one day to the 
 isle to thank his friends for their kindness. 
 The letter was courteous, and the language 
 that of a scholar and a gentleman. 
 
 " ' It is a sinofular trust,' said Matthew.
 
 250 hi a Silver Sea, 
 
 '' ' It lias occupied my thoughts during 
 the night/ said Father Sebastian, ' and 
 I can come to but one conclusion. 
 The child is an orphan, and an appeal was 
 probably made to Mauvain to give her 
 some kind of protection. In these circum- 
 stances Mauvain thought of the isle in 
 which he spent many happy years, and, 
 attracted by the innocence and beauty of 
 the child, decided that no securer shelter 
 could be found for one without natural 
 protectors. It is a kindly act, and Mauvain 
 is to be commended for it. Another hypo- 
 thesis strengthens my conclusion. The 
 child's name happened to be Evangeline ; 
 Mauvain is familiar with the fatal story 
 connected with the snow mountain ; and 
 he said, " I will send my island friends a 
 new Evangeline as fair as the old, whom 
 they can protect and cherish and grow to 
 love." A tender eccentricity.' 
 
 " ' My daughter,' said Matthew, ' has 
 given me a description of the dwarf who 
 accompanies the child. Can you explain 
 that connection ? ' 
 
 " ' I cannot,' replied Father Sebastian ; 
 ' it is a mystery which perplexes me. It is 
 certain that there is no kinship between
 
 In a Silver Sea. 251 
 
 them, and certain also that they bear for 
 each other a very human love.' 
 
 '' At this moment Evangeline was 
 brought into the room. 
 
 " Never shall I forget the feelings which 
 overpowered me at the sight of the sweet 
 and beautiful child. They say that the 
 lonofest dream lasts but a moment, and it 
 may be that only for a moment was I 
 unconscious of surrounding things; that 
 the years which have passed since my 
 childhood were suddenly blotted from my 
 life, as though they had never been ; that 
 I was a child again and Clarice was a 
 child, and that we were listening to the 
 kind voice of our father, who was explain- 
 ing to us the mystery of the stars. Such 
 a night was ours in the past, fixed for ever 
 in my memory by a chance look at Clarice's 
 face turned upwards to the sky. So do I 
 carry in my memory the eternal fragrance 
 of a handful of violets, given to us by a 
 woman in a country lane when we were 
 children. 
 
 " It passed, and the child Evangeline was 
 before me, gazing earnestly into my face. 
 
 ''It is not that her features resemble 
 those of Clarice. Her eyes are of a dif-
 
 252 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 ferent colour, her mouth is larger, her hands 
 broader and covered with dimples ; but 
 that altogether she brings my dear sister 
 to my mind with painful vividness. 
 
 " I have not confessed this to my hus- 
 band or our father. It might cause them 
 to regard me as being a victim entirely to 
 my imagination. There are secrets we 
 keep even from those who are dearest to 
 us. 
 
 " I was not conscious that tears were in 
 my eyes until Father Sebastian remarked 
 it. 
 
 '' ' It is the thought of this pretty one,' 
 I said, ' thrown upon the chance love of 
 strangers.' 
 
 " I knelt upon the ground, and I knew 
 that the men were regarding me with 
 tender looks. 
 
 " ' Child,' I said, drawing Evangeline to 
 me, ' do you think you could love me ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' she said. 
 
 " ' We want you to live with us ; I will 
 be a mother to you.' She echoed the word 
 ' Mother,' as though it were strange to her. 
 ' You remember your mother ? ' I asked. 
 
 '' ' No,' she replied. 
 
 " ' You will come with us, dear child ? '
 
 In a Silver Sea, 253 
 
 '' ' If Ranf does not mind. He must tell 
 me.' 
 
 " I kissed her, and turned to Father 
 Sebastian. ' You are content that we 
 shall adopt her, sir ? ' 
 
 '' ' It is the best arrangement that can 
 be made.' 
 
 '' My husband and Matthew also ap- 
 proved, and that day Evangeline entered 
 her new home. 
 
 " In the evening Eanf made his appear- 
 ance. We exchanged but few words. He 
 stipulated that he should see Evangeline 
 at any time he wished, and that she should 
 visit him when he desired. He spoke to 
 the child, who certainly entertains an 
 extraordinary affection for him. 
 
 '' ' Have you any questions to ask me ? ' 
 he said before he left. 
 
 '^ ' But one. Has she neither father 
 nor mother ? ' 
 
 " ' Neither. The child is doubly or- 
 phaned.' 
 
 " "With that he left me, and although 
 three months have passed, has never again 
 crossed our threshold. But Evangeline has 
 gone to him. He imitates a bird's notes, 
 and she runs out eagerly at the sound.
 
 2 54 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 "Joseph and Gabrielle are deliglited 
 with lier; they yield to her every caprice, 
 and with the children she is full of whims. 
 With me she is more sedate. Since she 
 joined our household my life has under- 
 gone a wonderful change. The past 
 seems nearer to me ; I think even more 
 frequently of Clarice than I have been in 
 the habit of doing. Ouce, with Evange- 
 line standing at my knee, I said to 
 her, — 
 
 " ' Did you know a beautiful woman 
 called Clarice ? ' 
 
 *' She shook her head. ' No.' 
 '* ' Did you never hear* the name ? ' 
 *' ' No ; it is pretty ; I like it.' 
 " ' Try to remember it, dear child.' 
 " * Yes, I will try to remember it.' 
 And she murmured the name softly to 
 herself. 
 
 " The days pass quietly. Eanf has built 
 huts for himself on the snow mountain ; 
 he is as much hated by the islanders as 
 Evangeline is loved. But in some myste- 
 rious undefinable way his life seems to be 
 bound up with ours. 
 
 " I am glad I have made this record. It 
 has comforted me."
 
 In a Silver Sea. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 JOSEPH GIVES EVANGELINE A PROOF OF HIS 
 LOVE. 
 
 The years glided peacefully away, and 
 no event of importance disturbed the 
 repose of the Silver Isle. Evangeline, 
 elected by Joseph and Gabrielle as their 
 queen, wore her crown with the innocent 
 audacity of childhood, and ruled her little 
 kingdom with absolute authority. She 
 was capricious, but not tyrannical, impe- 
 rious, but not boastful; in their home 
 amusements and woodland rambles her 
 moods and whims were anxiously con- 
 sulted by her young subjects, who were 
 most happy when she was pleased and 
 satisfied. That she should be obeyed 
 appeared to be natural ; it was a pleasant 
 .servitude, and Evangeline's close con- 
 nection with Eanf enabled her to introduce 
 colour and variety into the lives of the 
 children.
 
 256 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 Ranf s position in the isle did not im- 
 prove as the years passed by. He lived his 
 lonely life upon the mountain of snow, and 
 did not even ask from the islanders the ser- 
 vice of occasional companionship. He was 
 at times compelled to move among them, 
 needing certain articles and necessaries of 
 life which he had no independent means of 
 obtaining. These he bought and paid for 
 with scrupulous honesty, driving no hard 
 bargains, and using as few words as pos- 
 sible in the negotiations. Shortly after 
 his arrival upon the Silver Isle he pre- 
 sented to Father Sebastian a paper signed 
 by Mauvain, requesting that Ranf should 
 be allowed to extract silver from the mine 
 for a few days now and then, if it did not 
 interfere with the arrangements of the 
 islanders. The dwarf was informed that 
 he was free to work the mine when he 
 pleased, upon the condition that Mauvain' s 
 royalty of one-tenth was respected. He 
 availed himself of the permission, and 
 being a man of enormous strength and 
 endurance succeeded in obtaining much 
 treasure by working a few weeks in every 
 year. With this silver he purchased, 
 through the agency of the captains of the
 
 In a Silver Sea. 257 
 
 vessels whicli at rare intervals visited the 
 isle, what he most needed and desired. 
 He sent for rope, chains, goats, and birds, 
 which without help he conveyed to his 
 mountain huts. The birds were carrier- 
 pigeons, which he reared with the 
 greatest pains and care. Dogs also he 
 bought, so that his huts were surrounded 
 with life subservient to his will. His 
 amazing industry, leading apparently to 
 no result, at first raised curiosity, and 
 the islanders asked each other what this 
 strange creature wanted with ropes and 
 chains, and why he had built for himself 
 three huts, one near the valley, one in the 
 centre of the mountain, and one within 
 a couple of hundred yards of the 
 topmost peak; but there was not 
 a man on the isle who cared to inquire 
 further into the matter by venturing into 
 that lonely region, defiled by human crime 
 and cursed by Grod. Indeed, as time went 
 on, common usage established a right, and 
 the mountain was looked upon as Ranf s 
 lawful home, upon which none had war- 
 ranty to intrude without just cause. Ranf s 
 restless presence added a new horror to 
 the spot, and numerous were the stories 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 which grew out of his goirgs to and fro, 
 not only in the day, but in the night, for it 
 appeared as if this deformed being could 
 live without sleep. In all these stories, 
 and in all that surrounded Ranf's life and 
 movements, imagination played its part to 
 the dwarfs disadvantage, and even those 
 of the islanders most charitably inclined 
 were loth to admit that the circumstance 
 of a man surrounding himself with that 
 kind of animal life which was typical of 
 faithfulness and gentleness, spoke in his 
 favour. Ranf had pronounced judgment 
 upon himself. His open violation of re- 
 ligious observance, and his systematic 
 defiance of the laws of social life, caused 
 him to be regarded as an outlaw. 
 
 He did not murmur. One person loved 
 him, a child, it was true, but more likely 
 on that account to be sincere in the ex- 
 pression of her feelings. With that love 
 he was content. He neither asked nor 
 expected to be received as a guest by the 
 Sylvesters, but Margaret knew that he 
 kept close watch over Evangeline, and she 
 received proof that the feeling the dwarf 
 entertained for the child was as deep as 
 it was sincere. Evangeline had been with
 
 In a SzVver Sea. 259 
 
 tliem a year when slie was taken ill, and 
 for nearly a month was not allowed to 
 leave the house. Margaret, nursing the 
 child, heard Ranf's signal, a faithful 
 imitation of the song of the lark. She 
 went out immediately, but the dwarf did 
 not present himself. In the rear of the 
 house was a stretch of woodland, thickly 
 clustered with trees, and it was here that 
 Ranf and Evangeline were in the habit of 
 meeting. Ranf from his hiding-place 
 could see who it was that answered his 
 signal, and when 'Evangeline appeared he 
 continued his clear notes, walking slowly 
 into the closer shelter of the trees, Evan- 
 geline following him, until they reached a 
 spot where they could converse in private. 
 Upon this occasion, seeing Margaret ap- 
 proach, he was silent, and kept himself from 
 her sight. She waited, however, and pre- 
 sently imitated Eanf's call. Judging from 
 this that she had news for him, and having 
 reason to trust her, he replied to her, and 
 guided her to the spot on which he stood. 
 
 "I heard your signal," she said, "and 
 came at once." 
 
 ** It is not you I want," he said. 
 '' Where is Evangeline ? " 
 s 2
 
 2 Go In a Silver Sea, 
 
 " She is ill." 
 
 He turned white at the news, and 
 exhibited so much emotion that Margaret 
 felt a great compassion for this lonely man, 
 who had but a single human being in the 
 world to love. She explained that Evan- 
 geline was suffering from one of the 
 common ailments of children, and that 
 with care she would almost certainly re- 
 cover. 
 
 '' May a blight," cried Hanf, '' fall upon 
 the land if anything evil happens to my 
 little flower ! May plague destroy it, and 
 fire burn it ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " said Margaret sternly ; 
 '' better to pray to God for our little one's 
 recovery. If you would have your own 
 opinions respected, pay respect to those of 
 others. Your language is not fit for a 
 woman's ears; how much less, then, for 
 the ears of a child ! " 
 
 " You are right, mistress," muttered 
 Ranf ; *' I ask your pardon. I would not 
 harm her to save my soul." 
 
 '' You may come in and see the child 
 if you like; she knows no one; in her 
 delirium she has often mentioned your 
 name."
 
 In a Silver Sea, 261 
 
 " Thank joii," lie said bnmbly ; " I will 
 come in and see her." 
 
 " You will not speak to her ; she must 
 be ketp perfectly quiet." 
 
 Eanf followed Margaret into the house, 
 with steps lighter than her own. Evan- 
 geline lay in a large cool room, covered 
 with bedclothes of snowy whiteness ; her 
 eyes were closed, her little hands were 
 agitated by feverish movement. In the 
 distant window facing the child were a 
 few loose flowers ; the window was partly 
 open, and the sweet air flowed in. 
 
 " She likes to see the flowers," whispered 
 Margaret ; '' yesterday, when she opened 
 her eyes and looked towards the window, 
 she smiled at them." 
 
 Ranf nodded, and stood looking down 
 upon the child ; something in her pale face, 
 or in the quietude of the room, touched him 
 nearly, for his eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 " May I take her hand ? " he asked in a 
 whisper. 
 
 '' Be very gentle," said Margaret. 
 
 Eanf knelt by the bedside, and softly 
 placed his rough hand on Evangeline's 
 pretty fingers. The action did not disturb 
 her, nor did she move when he pressed his
 
 262 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 thick coarse lips to the tender palm. For 
 some time lie knelt in silence, and when he 
 rose to leave the room, he beckoned to 
 Margaret. She accompanied him into the 
 air. 
 
 '' There is no danger, you think," he said. 
 
 "She will recover, by the mercy of 
 God." 
 
 He did not quarrel with the formula, 
 but gave Margaret a grateful look. 
 
 ''I am your friend for ever," he said; 
 *' remember that. But for you, Evangeline 
 might have died." 
 
 " She is as one of my own," said 
 Margaret, " and has brought to me the 
 sweetest and most painful remem- 
 brances." 
 
 *' It is a life of suffering," was Eanf's 
 commentary. '' Those who love least, 
 suffer least. Mistress, until Evangeline is 
 well, I must have some place near here to 
 sleep in." 
 
 " You will not come into the house ? " 
 
 " No. I slept once in that shed yonder 
 with yoiiO:- permission. May I do so 
 again ?" 
 
 '' You are welcome. We do not use the 
 shed."
 
 In a Silver Sea. 263 
 
 " Place nothing in it, neither bed, nor 
 food, nor anything you suppose would add 
 to my comfort. I shall feel more at my 
 ease if I am allowed to come and go of 
 my own free will, and I prefer to look 
 after myself." 
 
 " You shall have your way.'* 
 
 " I shall come only in the night, and it 
 is not likely you will see me. I would 
 ask another favour at your hands." 
 
 " Give it words." 
 
 " If all has gone well with Evangeline 
 during the day, place outside her window 
 a flower, so that I may see it when I come 
 in the night." 
 
 *' It shall be done." 
 
 She had an intuitive knowledge of the 
 best way to treat this strange creature, 
 and her words were few and to the point. 
 Thinking of him after this interview, she 
 began to pity him in her heart, and to 
 wonder what kind of life had been his to 
 
 render men and the wavs of men so hate- 
 
 t/ 
 
 ful in his eyes. In that one house in all 
 the Silver Isle some feeling of ^ompassion 
 was felt for the lonely man. 
 
 Every evening Margaret placed a flower 
 outside the window of Evangeline's bed-
 
 264 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 room. Evangeline's recovery was slow 
 but sure, and when she was strong^ enough 
 to leave her bed, the child — having been 
 told by Margaret why and for whom a 
 flower was placed on the window-sill in 
 the evening — placed another by its side, 
 saying,— 
 
 " Ranf will know it comes from me." 
 
 Margaret informed her husband and 
 Matthew that she had given Ranf the use 
 of the shed, and the children were warned 
 not to enter it by day or night. 
 
 " He may have it altogether if he 
 likes," said the men ; " there is no occa- 
 sion to say anything about it. He will get 
 to learn in time that we look upon it as 
 his." 
 
 This happened without any words pass- 
 ing between them ; and when one morning 
 Margaret Sylvester found two lovely 
 white goats, each with a kid, tethered to 
 a post near the entrance to her house, she 
 knew that they came from Ranf as a mark 
 of friendship and gratitude. 
 
 To Joseph and Gabrielle, E-anf was a 
 being of wonderful and mysterious im- 
 portance. In so far as he was removed 
 from ordinary creatures, so far was he
 
 In a Silver Sea. 265 
 
 above them. That Evangeline loved him 
 was sufficient to elevate him in their eyes. 
 Ugly and ungainly as he was, he was in 
 some sense a hero, whose hand it would be 
 an honour to touch. Up to a certain time 
 they were only friends with him vicariously, 
 Evangeline being the intermediary. It 
 was years before he spoke to them, and 
 when he came upon them suddenly in the 
 forest, Gabrielle, trembling, scarcely dared 
 to raise her eyes above his knees. Joseph, 
 though inwardly shaken, was bolder, and 
 returned Ranf s searching look with one 
 of modest curiosity. He answered with 
 outward confidence the questions put to 
 him by Ranf, and the dwarf appeared to 
 be pleased with him. This was Joseph's 
 impression, and was confirmed by Evan- 
 geline in a conversation out of which 
 sprang an adventure which established a 
 friendship between Joseph and Ranf. 
 
 " Ranf likes you," said Evangeline to 
 Joseph. 
 
 " Did he say so ? " asked Joseph. 
 
 '' No ; but I can tell. He likes you 
 because I do." 
 
 This would have been humiliating to 
 one who aspired to be illustrious in him-
 
 266 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 self ; but Josepli was content to receive 
 lustre througli Evangeline. 
 
 " Did lie ask that ? " inquired Josepli. 
 
 *'Wliat?'' 
 
 " Whether you liked me ? " 
 
 ^'Yes." 
 
 *' And you do like me ? " 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " Better than anybody ? " 
 
 Evangeline considered before she an- 
 swered. '' Except Ranf." 
 
 *' What would you do for me ? " asked 
 Joseph anxiously. 
 
 '' Anything," she replied vaguely. 
 
 '' What would you give me ? " 
 
 '' Everything." 
 
 Joseph's mind at present was more 
 definite. 
 
 " Ask me questions," he said. It was 
 a favourite request of his when he had 
 anything he wished particularly to say or 
 do. " Questions about you and me." 
 
 '' Do you like me, Joseph ? " 
 
 '' More." 
 
 *' Do you love me? " 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 ** Better than anybody ? " 
 
 " Yes ; better than anybody."
 
 In a Silver Sea. 267 
 
 " Better tlian Gabrielle ? " 
 
 "That is different." 
 
 ''Why is it diflferent ? " 
 
 *' I don't know, but it is." 
 
 '' You have not told me, though," per- 
 sisted Evangeline. 
 
 " I love you better than Gabrielle." 
 
 " Does she know that ? " 
 
 " Yes, and she says it is right." 
 
 " Why is it right ? " 
 
 " I don't know, but it is." 
 
 " May I tell Ranf ? " 
 
 *' Yes, I should like him to know ; I 
 should like everybody to know." 
 
 " Do you love me better than you love 
 your mother ? " 
 
 It was an unkind question, and Joseph's 
 lips trembled as he answered, — 
 
 '' Yes, but that is different, too." 
 
 " Does your mother know that ? " 
 
 "No, and I should not like to tell 
 her." 
 
 " Then it can't be right." 
 
 " It must be right, because it is you. 
 It would not be if it were anybody else. 
 I would like you to understand, Evange- 
 line." 
 
 " Make me understand, Joseph."
 
 268 In a Silver Sea, 
 
 JosepH looked around for an inspiration. 
 It came to him in the form of a broken 
 branch which lay upon the ground. A 
 light flashed into his eyes ; he stooped and 
 picked up the branch. 
 
 ''This is a good thick stick," he said; 
 " look at it, Evangeline ; it is full of 
 knots." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 " If my mother said to me, ' Joseph, 
 put your left hand on that stone, and 
 strike it hard with the branch, as hard 
 as you can,' I should ask her why she 
 wished me to hurt myself ; I am not sure 
 whether I should not throw the branch 
 away, and tell her if she wanted to hurt 
 me, she must do it herself." 
 
 Joseph's left hand lay upon the stone ; 
 in his right he grasped the branch. 
 
 "Well, Joseph," said Evangeline, "I 
 don't understand yet." 
 
 " You will presently. That is what I 
 should do if mother desired me to strike 
 myself. But if you were to say to me, 
 ' Joseph, strike as hard as you can, and 
 show me how much you love me,' you 
 would see what I would do." 
 
 The children looked straight at each
 
 In a Silver Sea. 269 
 
 other for a moment. Tlien Evangeline, 
 suddenly closing her eyes, cried, — 
 
 " Joseph, strike as hard as you can, and 
 show me how much you love me." 
 
 She heard the sound of a blow, and she 
 opened her eyes in fear. Joseph's bleeding 
 hand lay upon the stone, and Joseph was 
 gazing at her with a proud smile on his 
 face. 
 
 '' Oh, Joseph, Joseph ! " cried Evange- 
 line. " What have you done ? " 
 
 " Tried to show how much I love you," 
 replied Joseph, with no tremor in his voice, 
 although his hand was sorely wounded. 
 " I would do more than that. Do you 
 understand now ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand. Oh, Joseph, 
 Joseph, how could you do such a thing ? 
 How could you hurt me so ? I feel it 
 more than you do ! It is cruel, cruel ! " 
 
 She took the wounded hand in hers, and 
 her tears fell upon it. In her remorse she 
 raised it to her lips and kissed it. An 
 exquisite thrill of happiness stirred the 
 boy's heart. 
 
 '' Will you kiss me, Evangeline ? " 
 
 She kissed him passionately, and left 
 the trace of blood upon his lips. Then
 
 270 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 she drew him to a spring of water, and 
 bathed the wound, and wrapped her 
 handkerchief round it. Joseph laughed 
 gaily. 
 
 '' It does not hurt, Evangeline," he said. 
 " You must not cry. If it was your 
 little hand instead of mine, it would be 
 different." 
 
 " Joseph," whispered Evangeline, " I 
 will never, never be cruel again." 
 
 " You must not say that," said Joseph 
 with an air of gravity ; " because, as 
 Grandfather Matthew says, we never know 
 what is coming." 
 
 *' There's blood on your lips, Joseph ; 
 let me wipe it off." 
 
 He held her hand to prevent her, 
 
 "There's blood on your lips, too, 
 Evangeline. Do not wipe it away. Let 
 it remain; then we shall not forget." 
 
 '* I shall never forget, Joseph." 
 
 '' Nor shall I." 
 
 '' Does your hand pain you now ? " 
 
 " No ; it was never so well. What are 
 you wrapping the branch in your frock 
 for?" 
 
 " I am going to keep it, Joseph, all my 
 life."
 
 /;/ a Silver Sea. 271 
 
 " You must promise me one thing, 
 Evangeline." 
 
 '' What is it ? " 
 
 " You must promise me beforehand." 
 
 '' I promise." 
 
 '' Mother nor any of my people," the 
 phrase came to Joseph, and he gave utter- 
 ance to it in a lofty tone, " must know of 
 this." 
 
 " They ought to be told, Joseph." 
 
 " They shall not be told, Evangeline. I 
 have your promise." 
 
 She felt that it was out of consideration 
 for her that the promise was extracted. Of 
 her own will she would have related volun- 
 tarily the story of Joseph's heroism and her 
 own wilfulness, and would have gloried in 
 showing herself in the worst and Joseph 
 in the brightest light. However, it was 
 not to be ; the secret was between her and 
 Joseph, and another, from whom she 
 concealed nothing. 
 
 " Eanf must know, Joseph." 
 
 "As you please about that. He will 
 not talk of it to anybody else." 
 
 That night Joseph, with boyish enthu- 
 siasm, looked at his lips stained with the 
 blood of Evanojeline's kiss. He would
 
 272 In a Silver Sea. 
 
 have liked to retain that mark for ever. 
 It could not be; but deeper and more 
 lasting than any outward sign was to be 
 the remembrance of the secret bond which 
 bound him to Evangeline for ever and 
 ever. As he nursed his wounded hand in 
 his sleep he dreamt of greater deeds per- 
 formed for her sake, of greater suffering 
 endured in her behalf. It was a proud 
 epoch in his joung life, and his state of 
 exaltation was purified and freed from 
 selfish dross by an innate nobility of nature 
 which one day in the future might blossom 
 into heroic fire. 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
 GILBERT AND EIVINGTON, LIMIIED, ST. JOHN S SQUAEE, LONDON.
 
 UNIVERSITY OP ILLINOia-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 045831341 
 
 liMMi