prodigious significance. It meant—as I found
when he gradually warmed into confession—
the first meeting on the dancing-ground on
Sunday evening near the beach when he returned
after his first voyage, begun when almost a
boy—a desolate orphan—and concluded when
quite a man; it meant the admiration and
love which had flashed through his frame
when he first beheld her coming along
beneath some stunted trees amidst her comrades
in age, who seemed born only to be her
attendants; it meant that whole bewildering
evening in which, despite all rules of
propriety, he danced only with her, gazed only
at her, thought only of her, attended only on
her, and disregarded all the anger, and the
jealousy, and the chatterings, and the sneers
of damsels who thought themselves at least
equally entitled to homage from the young
and handsome sailor. "For I am rather
good-looking to a woman's eye," said our
young friend, naively passing his fingers
through his hair. I laughingly assented, and
listened with attention, when, after this explosion
of feminine or half-civilised vanity, he
went on to relate how Madeleine was the
daughter of the richest proprietor on the
island, and how her father had promised her
in marriage to an old retired admiral, whom
fancy had led to establish himself during the
latter years of his life at Brehat.

"I was not the man to let this sacrifice
take place with the sneaking complacency of
your town's-folk," said the sailor (who, by
the way, told me that his name was Cornic).
I went and asked Madeleine's hand, and was
of course refused, because my wealth was not
sufficient. I objected that wealth was a
thing to be got, and that a man who had all
his limbs and a strong will to command them,
with the hope of Madeleine in the future,
was capable of doing wonders. The old man
said something about the sacredness of his
promise to the admiral; but, as he had
resolved not to let his daughter be married
for a couple of years, intimated that if I
could make a good offer within that time,
why he would take the matter into consideration.
So I set off on my voyage to Trebisond:
not, you may be sure, without having
had some private talk with Madeleine, and
obtaining from her a promise that she would
never marry the admiral until I gave up all
claim to her hand. For, as you may imagine,
my dear sir, Madeleine did not hesitate a
moment between me and the crusty old
seawolf who had cast his eyes on her, and whose
mode of courtship was to watch her through
a telescope from his window as she went in
and out of her house or wandered towards
the fields. I am quite sure she will keep her
promise; still, woman's nature is weak. I
have heard no news from Brehat since I
left; and now that I am so near, I .am afraid
to go over. I have tried to learn in Paimpol
some news of the doings in the island; but
nobody knows anything of them. It is true
that a wicked old woman has told me that
Madeleine Bosc was married to M. Renard a
week or two ago; but this must be a falsehood.
Neither she nor her father would dare to
deceive me so. I am terrible, sir, when I am
angry. There is no knowing what I might do.
We are not Bretons at Brehat. We come from
the south. We are Basques or Spaniards.
You know how those people treat the
mistress who has betrayed them, and the man
who is her accomplice."

Young Cornic had risen, and was walking
rapidly to and fro along the edge of the rock,
making threatening gesticulations towards
the far-out island of Brehat. I now understood
that he wanted me, having confidence
—I know not for what reason—in my discretion
and willingness to oblige, to go over to
Brehat and ascertain the truth of the report
which had agitated him. He feared that if he
went himself, he might be driven to commit
some crime. As my journey had no particular
goal, it was not a very great sacrifice on my
part to consent. I took his instructions,
promised to return on the morrow, went with
him to Paimpol, hired a bark, and, the
weather having become quite fine, in a few
hours reached Brehat.

A wall of crumbling granite encircles the
principal island, and allows nothing to be seen
from the sea but the summits of numerous
small hills, always crowned with rocks. As you
advance inland, however, the country becomes
more pleasing. In few parts of France,
indeed, is the soil fmore industriously made
use of. The fields extend to the very base
of the rocks, and are covered with a rich
vegetation. Between them run narrow pathways,
quite sufficient for the use of a district
which contains not a single cart nor even a
single horse. There are a good many cows;
and carriage is performed by means of asses.
Hamlets, composed of neat and clean houses,
and with names ending in"ker"and "ec"
are scattered here and there. The most
considerable is called Le Bourg; and it was
towards this, that I directed my steps from
the landing-place.

There was of course no hotel or respectable
inn of any kind, but I. managed to obtain
hospitality in a cabaret, where I saw
some sailors drinking. The hostess was a
surly old lady who looked at me askance as I
consumed an early dinner, for which I had
promised to pay well. She could not make
out what I wanted at Bourg; but did not
choose to indulge in any inquiries. I
was obliged to begin the conversation myself,
and soon found that without plump questioning
I should never reach the point I aimed at.
I had asked who were the principal
inhabitants of the island? I had been asked in
return, what I wanted to know for? At length,
I boldly mentioned the name of M. Bosc, and
succeeded in learning that he had gone to
France, perhaps to Paris.

"And Madeleine," said I—