Coxcomb as I was, there was no doubt in my mind that I could win Olivia.

To explain my coxcombry is not a very easy task.  I do not suppose I had a much higher sense of my own merits than such as is common to man.  I admit I was neither shy nor nervous on the one hand, but on the other I was not blatantly self-conceited.  It is possible that my course through life hitherto—­first as an only son adored by his mother, and secondly as an exceedingly eligible parti in a circle where there were very few young men of my rank and family, and where there were twenty or more marriageable women to one unmarried man—­had a great deal to do with my feeling of security with regard to this unknown, poor, and friendless stranger.  But, added to this, there was Olivia’s own frank, unconcealed pleasure in seeing me, whenever I had had a chance of visiting her, and the freedom with which she had always conversed with me upon any topic except that of her own mysterious position.  I was sure I had made a favorable impression upon her.  In fact, when I had been talking with her, I had given utterance to brighter and clearer thoughts than I had ever been conscious of before.  A word from her, a simple question, seemed to touch the spring of some hidden treasure of my brain, and I had surprised myself by what I had been enabled to say to her.  It was this, probably more than her beauty, which had drawn me to her and made me happy in her companionship.  No, I had never shown myself contemptible, but quite the reverse, in her presence.  No doubt or misgiving assailed me as the yacht carried us out of St. Sampson’s Harbor.

Swiftly we ran across, with a soft wind drifting over the sea and playing upon our faces, and a long furrow lying in the wake of our boat.  It was almost low tide when we reached the island—­the best time for seeing the cliffs.  They were standing well out of the water, scarred and chiselled with strange devices, and glowing in the August sunlight with tints of the most gorgeous coloring, while their feet, swathed with brown seaweed, were glistening with the dashing of the waves.  I had seen nothing like them since I had been there last, and the view of these wild, rugged crags, with their regal robes of amber and gold and silver, almost oppressed me with delight.  If I could but see Olivia on this summit!

The currents and the wind had been in favor of our running through the channel between Sark and Jethou, and so landing at the Creux Harbor, on the opposite coast of the island to the Havre Gosselin.  I crossed in headlong haste, for I was afraid of meeting with Julia’s friends, or some of my own acquaintances who were spending the summer months there.  I found Tardif’s house completely deserted.  The only sign of life was a family of hens clucking about the fold.

The door was not fastened, and I entered, but there was nobody there.  I stood in the middle of the kitchen and called, but there was no answer.  Olivia’s door was ajar, and I pushed it a little more open.  There lay books I had lent her on the table, and her velvet slippers were on the floor, as if they had only just been taken off.  Very worn and brown were the little slippers, but they reassured me she had been wearing them a short time ago.