But as I left the Market Square I came suddenly upon Julia, face to face.  It had all the effect of a shock upon me.  Like many other women, she seldom looked well out-of-doors.  The prevailing fashion never suited her, however the bonnets were worn, whether hanging down the neck or slouched over the forehead, rising spoon-shaped toward the sky, or lying like a flat plate on the crown.  Julia’s bonnet always looked as if it had been made for somebody else.  She was fond of wearing a shawl, which hung ungracefully about her, and made her figure look squarer and her shoulders higher than they really were.  Her face struck sharply upon my brain, as if I had never seen it distinctly before; not a bad face, but unmistakably plain, and just now with a frown upon it, and her heavy eyebrows knitted forbiddingly.  A pretty little basket was in her hand, and her mind was full of the bargains she was bent upon.  She was even more surprised and startled by our encounter than I was, and her manner, when taken by surprise, was apt to be abrupt.

“Why, Martin!” she ejaculated.

“Well, Julia!” I said.

We stood looking at one another much in the same way as we used to do years before, when she had detected me in some boyish prank, and assumed the mentor while I felt a culprit.  How really I felt a culprit at that moment she could not guess.

“I told you just how it would be,” she said, in her mentor voice.  “I knew there was a storm coming, and I begged and entreated of you not to go.  Your mother has been ill all the week, and your father has been as cross as—­as—­”

“As two sticks,” I suggested, precisely as I might have done when I was thirteen.

“It is nothing to laugh at,” said Julia, severely.  “I shall say nothing about myself and my own feelings, though they have been most acute, the wind blowing a hurricane for twenty-four hours together, and we not sure that you had even reached Sark in safety.  Your mother and I wanted to charter the Rescue, and send her over to fetch you home as soon as the worst of the storm was over, but my uncle pooh-poohed it.”

“I am very glad he did,” I replied, involuntarily.

“He said you would be more than ready to come back in the first cutter that sailed,” she went on.  “I suppose you have just come in?”

“Yes,” I said, “and I’m half numbed with cold, and nearly famished with hunger.  You don’t give me as good a welcome as the Prodigal Son got, Julia.”

“No,” she answered, softening a little; “but I’m not sorry to see you safe again.  I would turn back with you, but I like to do the marketing myself, for the servants will buy any thing.  Martin, a whole cartload of our furniture is come in.  You will find the invoice inside my davenport.  We must go down this afternoon and superintend the unpacking.”

“Very well,” I said; “but I cannot stay longer now.”