“You haven’t to look a long way ahead,” she continued. “You oughtn’t to. Those who look too far ahead see the reflection of the past. You must live, as nearly as possible, from day to day. Plan for a year and plan, in the circumstances, no farther. Keep to the beach. Keep to the men, especially Uncle Ho and Tommy. They have something they can share with you, something you need above everything else just now.” So it was decided and so arranged. Mermaid, who was concerned over her aunt’s health, felt that to go to California might do Keturah Hand a world of good. It could be tried, anyway. She came over to the beach one morning to say good-bye to her father, to Hosea Hand, to the men generally, one or two of whom, particularly Joe Sayre, remembered her from her childhood among them. And to say good-bye to Guy Vanton. He already looked better physically, she thought, noting the trace of colour in his face and the absence of the dark rings from under his eyes. Their gaze met as they said good-bye. His curious, fawn-like glance was fixed on the shining blue surfaces that hid such great deeps within her eyes, a wild creature of the shore looking with wonder on the unfathomable sea. He said: “Good-bye. I shall see you every time the sun shines on the ocean. You--you must come back. Please do write to me.” “I shall be back,” she answered, with calm warmth. Only the blue opacity of her eyes concealed the great tides moving within her. “I shall write. Work hard. Sand and sea and sun are great chemicals to act upon the mind. The beach here is so like a desert island. You must think of yourself as on a desert island, cut off by the sea of present living from the lands of past remembrance. And eventually, like Atlantis, those lands will sink beneath the sea.” With a firm handclasp they parted. VII On the train travelling westward Mermaid and her aunt had some talk of events, recent and not so recent. “But why did you take my jewels?” demanded Keturah. “Because they worried you. They were like a piece of bone, a tiny fragment pressing on the brain,” responded the young woman. “I knew that if they disappeared in such a way as to make it seem that they had been stolen--and I suppose, strictly, they were stolen--the worrying would cease. What made you think of Captain Vanton as the thief?” “Because it was impossible to think of any one else, I suppose,” said Mrs. Hand. “And while I never guessed that he was the man King, still he evidently knew more about King than any of us did; and King had known or seen Keturah Hawkins and knew of or had seen the stones. Any one might want to steal them who knew about them. And he did.” Mermaid had a question in turn: “I should have thought Uncle Ho would have recognized Captain Vanton as the Jacob King he had known in San Francisco.” “Child, half a century had elapsed between his acquaintance with Jacob King and the appearance of Captain Vanton in Blue Port. Then, those sidewhiskers....”