“Tardif,” I said, “Captain Carey came ashore on purpose to visit you and your farm.”

I knew he was excessively proud of his farm, which consisted of about four or five acres.  He caught at the words with alacrity, and led the way toward his house with tremendous strides.  There was no means of evading a tour of inspection, though Captain Carey appeared to follow him reluctantly.  Olivia and I were left alone, but she was moving after them slowly, when I ran to her, and offered her my arm on the plea that her ankle was still too weak to bear her weight unsupported.

“Olivia!” I exclaimed, after we had gone a few yards, bringing her and myself to a sudden halt.  Then I was struck dumb.  I had nothing special to say to her.  How was it I had called her so familiarly Olivia?

“Well, Dr. Martin?” she said, looking into my face again with eager, inquiring eyes, as if she was wishful to understand my varying moods if she could.

“What a lovely place this is!” I ejaculated.

More lovely than any words I ever heard could describe.  It was a perfect day, and a perfect view.  The sea was like an opal, changing every minute with the passing shadows of snow-white clouds which floated lazily across the bright blue of the sky.  The cliffs, Sark Cliffs, which have not their equal in the world, stretched below us, with every hue of gold and bronze, and hoary white, and soft gray; and here and there a black rock, with livid shades of purple, and a bloom upon it like a raven’s wing.  Rocky islets, never trodden by human foot, over which the foam poured ceaselessly, were dotted all about the changeful surface of the water.  And just beneath the level of my eyes was Olivia’s face—­the loveliest thing there, though there was so much beauty lying around us.

“Yes, it is a lovely place,” she assented, a mischievous smile playing about her lips.

“Olivia,” I said, taking my courage by both hands, “it is only a month now till my wedding-day.”

Was I deceiving myself, or did she really grow paler?  It was but for a moment if it were so.  But how cold the air felt all in an instant!  The shock was like that of a first plunge into chilly waters, and I was shivering through every fibre.

“I hope you will be happy,” said Olivia, “very happy.  It is a great risk to run.  Marriage will make you either very happy or very wretched.”

“Not at all,” I answered, trying to speak gayly; “I do not look forward to any vast amount of rapture.  Julia and I will get along very well together, I have no doubt, for we have known one another all our lives.  I do not expect to be any happier than other men; and the married people I have known have not exactly dwelt in paradise.  Perhaps your experience has been different?”

“Oh, no!” she said, her hand trembling on my arm, and her face very downcast; “but I should have liked you to be very, very happy.”

So softly spoken, with such a low, faltering voice!  I could not trust myself to speak again.  A stern sense of duty toward Julia kept me silent; and we moved on, though very slowly and lingeringly.