Idleness especially was held up before her, from the outset, as the most destructive evil and dire iniquity of which human creature was capable; and Old Briton, lounging about all day with his pipe in his mouth,—­by no means a rare spectacle,—­did not interfere with the lesson the child’s mother enforced.  Winter and summer there was enough for the little feet and hands to do.  So, as Clarice grew up, she earned the best reputation for industry of any girl in Diver’s Bay.

Before she became the praise of the serious Bay people, Luke Merlyn’s bright eyes were on the little girl, and he had a settled habit of seeking times and opportunities for quiet talks with her.  He liked to ask and follow her advice in many matters.  Many a heavy basket of weeds had he helped her carry home from the rocks; many a shell and pebble had he picked up in his coast-work, when he went beyond the limits of the Bay,—­because he knew the good girl had a liking for every pretty thing.

If Clarice Briton was the finest girl, Luke Merlyn, beyond question, was the most promising fellow in this little village of fishermen.  He was strong, active, ready for any undertaking that required a bold spirit and firm hand,—­was quicker in thought and readier in speech than any lad about.  He had a little personal vanity,—­and good looks to encourage the same; but he had besides a generous heart, and the conviction was general, whether expressed or not, that in Luke a man was growing up who would some day take the lead among the fishermen of Diver’s Bay.  He had a livelier fancy, a more active imagination, than any lad thereabout; these qualities of mind, united to his courage and warmth of heart, seemed to point toward a future worth arriving at.

II.

When Luke returned from fishing, towards evening, he went down to Briton’s cabin, hardly taking time to remove from his person the traces of his day of toil, his haste was so great.

Briton had arrived before him, and now sat at supper with his cup of grog beside him.  When Luke entered, Dame Briton was exhibiting the gold chain, reserved, in spite of her impatience, till she had cooked the supper.

It was partly on account of this chain that Luke had made such haste in coming.  He felt interested in the fortunes of the family to-night, and he knew Briton’s habit of bargaining and throwing away treasure.

Clarice was standing on the hearth when he arrived.  As Luke passed the window, he thought her face looked very sad; but when he crossed the threshold, the expression greatly changed, or else he was mistaken.  She had been telling her father how she found the chain,—­but concerning the ring was silent, as in the morning.  That ring was still fastened to its cord, and hung about her neck.  With reluctance she had shown it even to her mother, and by this time, having scarcely thought of anything beside, it possessed an almost sacred charm to her eyes.  Why should I not say it was the most sacred of all things to her, since that is but true?