Affairs had moved along very rapidly during the last few days on Pierre Island. It had become the field, and Marie the focal point, of interest in the lives of Grace Gaston and Frank Winslow. This common interest brought them together in the interchange of thought as to her future and in union of purpose for her benefit. She had become their protÉgÉ, and they both gave her their care and protection.

At Bluff Castle, or out under the trees at the point of the island that gave the best view of the country, they often conferred with Pierre concerning the question of Marie's future. These self-imposed duties and the arranging of all their plans were productive of pleasant moments for them all. It threw Winslow much into the society of Miss Gaston, which he valued more and more as the days passed which would separate him altogether from his friends. His admiration for her did not lessen as he found each day of their fuller acquaintance some new quality of her personality. Perfectly at ease under almost all circumstances, she did not obtrude herself upon him, so that he could only judge of her as chance opened to his view some new phase of her character.

The old Acadian himself was much gratified with the interest his friends evinced in his daughter and himself, and it brought a new hope and solace to his saddened life.

Marie had become almost the constant companion of Miss Gaston during the few weeks she had spent away from Blomidon. She was never without her on her walks about the shores of the island or mainland. Often Winslow accompanied them, but never did he find Miss Gaston alone. He sometimes wondered at this, but as Marie went among them as a quiet spirit, without intrusion, ever welcomed by them all, no restraint was ever put upon their conversation by her presence. Moreover, he as a man was outspoken, and while ever calm and deliberate in his manner, imparted a fearless and decided tone to each act of his life. What he had to do he did at once, and was not easily turned aside. He became a lover in his own peculiar way, and as he strengthened as a lover he did not weaken as a man. It was not in his nature to do so. A strength and fineness of soul lay beneath it all, but he unwittingly deceived himself and he deceived others. Recognizing the force of character in Miss Gaston, he was drawn to her by every responsive sensibility of his being. He saw her often. He had every opportunity to realize what she was in herself and in her relations with others. Only one sentiment she did not share with him. Her womanly nature treasured it as its own, and in this one thing their friendship had been of too short duration for him to discover it from her own lips, and there was no other way by which it might be known, unless chance had revealed it. This chance did not occur, at least for some days after their stay, and then too late for the avoidance of that turn in the state of affairs which left for Miss Gaston the only unhappiness of her visit to Nova Scotia. It might be said that it was one of the regrets of her lifetime. She had found in Winslow a man of that quality which unites him to a woman of high nature in lasting affection. Such experiences are rare in practical life, but they have a force and quality which is only next to love in the highest sense between man and woman.

Without a father, she had come to Acadia with the Forests, and had been accompanied by Mr. Sternly during a part of their trip. This young man, one of the rising artists of the day, was yet in the early stages of his advancement, and while success was certain, he needed yet some years of study and labor to give him the prominence which his talents promised. Not as yet engaged, he and Miss Gaston were accepted lovers. She lived in his ultimate success, and had accepted him as the choice of her heart without binding him or herself to any future relationship till he had given to the world the highest type of success, and crowned his labors with the purest and loftiest ideal of artistic development. She had entered with him into this great hope. She had stimulated him with the influence of her ambition for him and the strength of her love as well. Between them existed the purest form of that love which crowns and glorifies all earthly labor. It was not a theme for the comment of others.

"Our protÉgÉ has been the means of making us better acquainted, Mr. Winslow," said Miss Gaston, during one of their walks, after they had been arranging some plans, as usual, for Marie and Pierre. "Mrs. Forest and her daughter are pleased that we were so fortunate."

"It has been fortunate for me, rather, in that I have found such good friends. I much regret that I must leave here so soon."

"We also regret it. The people staying at the hotel are hoping to arrange for an excursion to Grand-PrÉ, and Mrs. Forest told me she hoped it would come off before you went away."

Marie was with them, and they wandered towards the Blue Vein, enjoying to the fullest extent the lovely day and the soft breeze from the outgoing tide. They had turned among the huge masses of rock at the rear of the island. Marie, silent as was her wont while in the presence of Winslow, moved along with them, or stopped to examine some object that caught her attention as they walked. She had dropped behind them now, and Miss Gaston, turning to him, said:

"Now that it is all arranged for Marie to make her home with us, I am sure that you will do your duty by her and come to see her often. It will be a guarantee that you shall not neglect your other friends, for the Forests are often with us."

"I must go to Marie's home to see you," said Winslow, turning upon her with a strange look in his eyes, and a deeper and lower tone in his voice. "Miss Gaston, as I leave here so soon I esteem this opportunity a great privilege."

She started as if she had received a blow, and in an instant she realized the meaning of the situation. A painful light broke in upon her. She feared to let him go on and she hesitated before she should fully understand him. But there was no mistaking his voice and the look on his face. The strong man's soul was on his lips, and the influence of his strength was on her heart and moved her beyond the possibility of a doubt.

"Oh, Mr. Winslow," she cried, in a voice full of pain, "I fear I have been terribly mistaken. And I fear I have unwittingly deceived you."

"Then do not let us misunderstand each other any longer, Miss Gaston. I must tell you that I hoped much from this friendship, so suddenly—and I thought so happily—come to us. Do not, I beg of you, mistake my interest in Marie, and my affection for her father."

"Forgive me, Mr. Winslow," she said, with tears in her eyes, "this is a sadness for me. I was surely, surely blind."

Winslow looked at her long with pale face, and saw that to say more was to add still greater pain to her grief. He realized his position, and with effort kept himself in hand.

"Pardon me if I return," he said, hurriedly, as he heard Marie's steps approaching them again. He turned away, and caught for an instant the full look of Marie's eyes as he hurried past her. In another instant he was out of sight, and the two women met. Marie saw the tears and agitation of Miss Gaston, and as she came near her friend she was clasped in a moment about the neck, and found her own tears falling, called forth by the silent grief of the older woman.

"Oh, Marie," she said, at last, "I have been injuring you, and I have injured Mr. Winslow. But not for a moment did I think of all this that has occurred."

"You could not injure me or him, Grace," answered Marie, still held by her friend.

"Marie, I shall never forgive myself till you both have forgiven me."

"I forgive you now, and Mr. Winslow forgives you, too," said Marie, smiling in her tears.

It was some time before they returned from the beach. They were both silent, and holding each other's hand, and by the sudden stroke of chance bound still more closely together, the one by sympathy and love, the other by the added quality of a heart filled with the deep desire of doing reparation for a great injury.

Miss Gaston looked upon her coming to Pierre Island as a great misfortune, and her staying there after the development of the first events and the condition of things which she should have been cognizant of, the greatest blunder of her life. From what Winslow had said of the Pierres she had at once inferred that Marie held first place in his affections. She believed him capable of any disinterested action for the advantage of another, yet she looked upon his relation with the Acadian family as having a deeper meaning than that which was now disclosed. In this she had been deceived, and it had led to such consequences as to bind her to the end of restoring the original condition of affairs as far as in her power lay. How much she would do to see her friends as they were before she came into their lives. With the instinct of a woman, and with that insight peculiar to herself, she had found in Marie such qualities as had pleased her, and had satisfied her as to Winslow's choice. In doing for Marie she felt that she was aiding Winslow as well, and from this double service she had derived a great deal of satisfaction and pleasure.

The intense feeling of regret and sorrow would often quite overcome her as she walked back towards the ford with Marie, and the tears often came to her eyes as she reflected on the possible consequences of her intervention. She feared that it might be even more serious than the strong nature of her friend promised.

With these feelings, and with an occasional overpowering emotion which affected Marie as well, they now came in sight of the ford, and the appearance of the Forests on the other side, and their signals of welcome caused her to put a strong restraint upon her feelings. They were soon able to converse across the channel which rippled out softly and laid bare the higher stones of the ford.

Miss Forest was in the greatest good humor. She said at once, when her friend came within speaking distance:

"It is all arranged, Grace. We go in the morning."

"To Grand-PrÉ?"

"Yes."

"Marie," she continued, "you and your father and Suzanne must come with us. We have arranged for everything, and you must come."

Miss Gaston left Marie with a few kind words, and as the tide had fallen, she stepped over the rocks of the ford and joined her friends.

Marie passed up the steep road to Bluff House still oppressed with the grief that had called forth her sympathy with Miss Gaston. From the summit Winslow himself, seated alone, looked down upon the scene presented to his view, and gave himself up for the time to the emotions which his experience of the afternoon left him. He recalled the whole incident, and for the first time he found that the child woman had in some mysterious way been the cause of all his present unhappiness. He recalled what Miss Gaston had said in regard to Marie and himself, and he wondered how it was possible for her to suppose him occupying the position she had assumed for him in the life of the Acadian maiden. He saw Miss Gaston going up the beach towards the mainland, and as her form grew smaller and at last was lost to view in the road which turned along the side of the hill, he looked at Marie coming nearer and nearer as she ascended with slow steps the island road. Her form stood out with bolder lines, and her large eyes and beautiful face had taken a new quality in his eyes. He found himself thinking about her as a woman, not as a child, as he had done previously. The influence of Miss Gaston on him was already at work, and in the confusion of his thoughts he did not fail to realize that from that day the two women who had so much to do with his destiny had suddenly fallen from the position he had falsely placed them in, and had by a rapid turn of affairs assumed the place they rightly belonged to, and which also changed considerably his own position in regard to them.