clearly in a hawthorn-bush hanging over the cliff; and the cry of the
gulls flitting about the rocks; I could hear them all at the same
moment, with the deep, quiet tone of the sea sounding below their gay
music. Tardif was going out to fish, and I had helped him to pack his
basket. From my niche in the rocks I could see him getting out of the
harbor, and he had caught a glimpse of me, and stood up in his boat,
bareheaded, bidding me good-by. I began to sing before he was quite out
of hearing, for he paused upon his oars listening, and had given me a
joyous shout, and waved his hat round his head, when he was sure it was
I who was singing. Nothing could be plainer than that he had gone away
more glad at heart than he had been all the winter, simply because he
believed that I was growing lighter-hearted. I could not help laughing,
yet being touched and softened at the thought of his pleasure. What a
good fellow he was! I had proved him by this time, and knew him to be
one of the truest, bravest, most unselfish men on God's earth. How good
a thing it was that I had met with him that wild night last October,
when I had fled like one fleeing from a bitter slavery! For a few
minutes my thoughts hovered about that old, miserable, evil time; but I
did not care to ponder over past troubles. It was easy to forget them
to-day, and I would forget them. I plucked the daisies, and listened
almost drowsily to the birds and the sea, and felt all through me the
delicious light and heat of the sun. Now and then I lifted up my eyes,
to watch Tardif tacking about on the water. There were several boats
out, but I kept his in sight, by the help of a queer-shaped patch upon
one of the sails. I wished lazily for a book, but I should not have read
it if I had had one. I was taking into my heart the loveliness of the
spring day.

By twelve o'clock I knew my dinner would be ready, and I had been out in
the fresh air long enough to be quite ready for it. Old Mrs. Tardif