chaplain as well as the children: the strong young nature had in one way supported them all. Meanwhile the girl herself was journeying down the lake. She stood at the stern, watching the island grow distant, grow purple, grow lower and lower on the surface of the water, until at last it disappeared; then she covered her face and wept. After this, like one who leaves the vanished past behind him, and resolutely faces the future, she went forward to the bow and took her seat there. Night came on; she remained on deck through the evening: it seemed less lonely there than among the passengers in the cabin. She knew the captain; and she had been especially placed in his charge, also, by Père Michaux, as far as one of the lower-lake ports, where she was to be met by a priest and taken to the eastern-bound train. The captain, a weather-beaten man, past middle age, came after a while and sat down near her. "What is that red light over the shore-line?" said Anne to her taciturn companion, who sat and smoked near by, protecting her paternally by his presence, but having apparently few words, and those husky, at his command. "Fire in the woods." "Is it not rather late in the season for a forest fire?" "Well, there it is," answered the captain, declining discussion of the point in face of obvious fact. Anne had already questioned him on the subject of light-houses. Would he like to live in a light-house? No, he would not. But they might be pleasant places in summer, with the blue water all round them: she had often thought she would like to live in one. Well, _he_ wouldn't. But why? Resky places sometimes when the wind blew: give him a good stiddy boat, now.