"First of all I have to make a fire."

"Oh!"

"But that is not so very difficult"

"How do you do it?"

"Would you like to know?"

"Very much indeed. I should like to see, if I may."

The lady reflected a moment. "I suppose you may, but if you do, you ought to help me, don't you think?" The gentleman much amused and greatly interested.

"Ah but you see, it is you I want to see make it. I am very useless you know at that sort of thing, still, if you will allow me, I will try my best. Am I to come ash.o.r.e?"

"Certainly, if you are to be of any use."

The lady jumped lightly off the pretty couch of moss and wound her plentiful hair round her head with one turn of her arm. Her dress was creased but well-fitting, her figure not plump enough for beauty but decidedly youthful. She watched her new friend moor his boat and ascend with one or two strides of his long legs up the side of the cliff that was not so steep. He took off his hat.

"I am at your service," he said with a profound bow. The lady made him another, during which all her long hair fell about her again, at which they both laughed.

"What do we do first?" said he.

"O we find a lot of sticks and pieces of bark, mostly birch bark, and anything else that will burn--you may have to fell a tree while you are about it--and I'll show you how to place them properly between two walls of stones, put a match to them and there is our fire. Will you come with me?"

He a.s.sented of course, and they were soon busy in the interior of the little wood that grew up towards the centre of the island. I must digress here to say that the gentleman's name was Amherst. He was known to the world in latter life as Admiral Amherst, and he was a great friend of mine. When he related this story to me, he was very particular in describing the island as I have done--indeed he carried a little chart about with him of it which he had made from memory, and he told me besides that he never forgot the peculiar beauty of that same little tract of wood. The early hour, the delicious morning air, the great moss-grown and brown decaying tree trunks, the white, clammy, ghostly, flower or fungus of the Indian Pipe at his feet, the ma.s.ses of ferns, the elastic ground he trod upon, and the singular circ.u.mstance that he was alone in this exquisite spot with a woman he had never seen until five minutes previously, all combined to make an ineffaceable impression upon his mind. The lady showed herself proficient in the art of building a fire and attended by Amherst soon had a fine flame rising up from between the fortifications evidently piled by stronger hands than her own.

"What do we do now?" asked Amherst "I should suggest--a kettle."

"Of course, that is the next step. If I give it to you, you might run and fill it, eh?'

"Delighted!" and away went Amherst. When he returned the lady was not to be seen. The place was shorn of its beauty, but he waited discreetly and patiently, putting the kettle on to boil in the meanwhile.

"It's very singular," said he, "how I come to be here. I wonder who are with her in her party; no one else appears to be up or about. That striped red and white thing is the tent, I see, over there. Ah! That's where she has gone, and now she beckons me! Oh! I'll go, but I don't want to meet the rest of them!"

But when he reached the tent, it was quite empty, save for rugs and wraps, boxes, etc., and the lady was laughingly holding out a loaf of bread in one hand and a paper package in the other.

"You will stay and breakfast with me?"

"What will you give me?" said Amherst, smiling.

"I can only give you eggs, boiled in the kettle, coffee and bread and b.u.t.ter. The fish haven't come in yet."

"What can be nicer than eggs--especially when boiled in the kettle, that is, if you make the coffee first."

"Certainly I do."

"And it is really French coffee?"

"Really. Cafe des Gourmets, you know; we--I always use it--do not like any other."

Amherst was fast falling in love. He told me that at this point his mind was quite made up that if it were possible he would remain in the neighborhood a few days at least, in order to see more of this charming girl. She seemed to him to be about twenty-six or seven, and so frank, simple and graceful, one could not have resisted liking her. Her hair and eyes were identical in colour and both were beautiful; her expression was arch and some of her gestures almost childish, but a certain dignity appeared at times and sat well upon her. Her hands were dest.i.tute of any rings as Amherst soon discovered, and were fine and small though brown. While she made the coffee, Amherst threw himself down on the wonderful moss, the like of which he had never seen before and looked out over the water. An unmistakeable constraint had taken the place of the unaffected hilarity of the first ten minutes. A reaction had set in. Amherst could of course only answer to me in telling this for himself, but he divined at the time a change in his companion's manner as well.

"I hope you like your eggs," she said presently.

"They are very nice, indeed, thank you," rejoined Amherst.

"And I have made your coffee as you like it?"

"Perfectly, thank you. But you--you are not eating anything! Why is that?"

As he asked the question he turned quickly around, in order to rise that he might help her with the ponderous kettle that she was about lifting off the camp-fire, when a long strand of her hair again escaping from its coil blew directly across his face. Amherst uttered a radiant "Oh!", and taking it to his lips forgot himself so far as to press kiss after kiss upon it. The lady stood as if transfixed and did not move, even when Amherst actually swept all her hair down over one arm and turning her face to his, pressed one long long kiss on her forehead.

The moment he had done this his senses returned and he stepped back in indignation with himself. But his companion was still apparently transfixed. Amherst looked at her in dismay. She did not seem to see him and had grown very pale. He touched her gently on the arm but she did not show that she felt the touch. He retreated a few paces and stood by himself, overcome with shame and contrition. What had he done? How should he ever atone for such an unwarrantable action? Had it been the outcome of any ordinary flirtation, he would have felt no such scruples, but the encounter, though short, had been one of singular idyllic charm until he had by his own rash act spoilt it. A few minutes pa.s.sed thus in self contemplation appeared like an eternity. He must speak.

"If you would allow me--"

But the lady put out her left hand in deprecation as it were and he got no further. The silence was unendurable. Amherst took a step or two forward and perceived great tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh!" he began desperately, "won't you allow me to say a word to tell you how very, very sorry I am, how grieved I am and always shall be?

I never--I give you my word of honor--I never do those sort of things, have never done such a thing before! But I can't tell what it was, the place is so beautiful, and when all that lovely hair came sweeping past my face, I could not help doing as I did, it was so electrical! Any man would have done the same. I know that sounds like a miserable, cowardly excuse, but it is true, perfectly true." The lady seemed to struggle to appear calm and with a great effort she turned her face towards Amherst.

"I know one man," she said, in a voice choked with sobs, "who would not have done it?"

Amherst started. "I am sorrier than ever, believe me. I might have known you were engaged, or had a lover--one so Charming"--

"It is not that," said the lady. "I am married." She was still struggling with her emotion.

Amherst recoiled. He was torn with conflicting thoughts. What if he had been seen giving that involuntary salute? He might have ruined her peace for ever. Who would believe in the truth of any possible explanation?

"I will leave you at once;" he said stiffly, "there is nothing more to be said."

"Oh! You will reproach me now!" said his companion, wiping her eyes as the tears came afresh.

"I will try not to;" said Amherst, "but you could so easily have told me; I do not think it was--quite--fair." Yet he could not be altogether angry with the partner of his thoughtlessness, nor could he be entirely cold. Her beautiful eyes, her despairing att.i.tude would haunt him he knew for many a day. She had ceased weeping and stood quietly awaiting his departure. Amherst felt all the force of a strong and novel pa.s.sion sweep along his frame as he looked at her. Was she happy, was she a loved and loving wife? Somehow the conviction forced itself upon him that she was not. Yet he could not ask her, it must remain her secret.

Amherst looked at his watch. It aroused her.

"What is the time?" she said lifting her head for the first time since he had kissed her.

"Ten minutes past six," Amherst replied.

"You must go," she said, with an effort at self-control. "I shall have much to do presently."

He cast one look about and approached her.

"Will you forgive me"--he began in a tone of repression, then with another mighty and involuntary movement he caught her hands and pressed them to his breast. "My G.o.d," he exclaimed, "how I should have loved you!"