“Joe thought he’d come to see ye, y’ understand, young lady! Old Joe thought he’d come. The winter’s been long enough on the island, and come spring Joe says to himself, ‘She’ll be thinking about home,’ he says, ‘and mebbe she’ll be glad to see a face as comes from home, even if ’tis a ugly one. Joe ain’t never set up to be a beauty, ye know, Isly.” He tried a laugh, and it broke off in his throat. “Ain’t ye glad to see the old man, Isly?” he said, after a pause. “Ain’t ye goin’ to pass the time o’ day to old Joe, Joe Brazybone, as he and Giles was boys together?” Isla smiled, and pressed his hand kindly; her lips never moved, but now she began to shake as if with an ague; pale flushes came and went through her clear skin, and her breathing was hurried and broken. The trustee touched Joe on the shoulder. “I fear you are distressing her!” he said kindly, seeing the man labouring in anguish of perplexity. “You forget Isla hears nothing, and she has not yet learned to read from the lips.” Joseph Brazybone started to his feet, and threw up his hands with a strange gesture. “What’s that you’re sayin’?” he asked. “What’s that you said, gentleman, about Isly Heron?” “I do not need, surely, to tell you that she is deaf and dumb,” said the trustee. “You cannot speak to her by signs, as Jacob did when he came!” [Illustration] “Deef!” cried Joe, and his voice rang through the room like a trumpet. “Isly Heron deef? It’s a lie, whoever says so. Isly, why don’t you speak to me? why don’t you speak to these folks, and tell ’em not to call you out o’ your name? “Isly Heron deef and dumb, her that sings like a bird, and talks like angels in the sky? Why, gentleman, and you, lady stranger, you—you don’t understand what you’re sayin’. I tell ye, if God only allowed one voice on this airth, that voice ’ud be Isly Heron’s. And old Joe comes to see his young lady, and she won’t speak to him. Oh, Isly, Isly, for yer father’s sake, speak to old Joe just once, if ye never do again!”