FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 87 



David Colburn looked his young wife steadily in the face. One could 

 see that he had small doubt what that word would be. 



" I say the word ? I have this to say, God love thee and keep thee, dear 

 David, wherever thou art. Ay! and He will! He will!" 



She put her faithful arms about his neck ; her truthful eyes looked into his. 



"But now tell me, in plain words, you are not angry; say just the words 

 and I'll go with a lighter heart, Janet." 



Again that strong, sure smile. 



"Not angry; no! I never shall be angry with you, David, so long as I 

 know you are doing right. And now," she went on, after a moment's pause, 

 "now let us go and see Dolly, Dora and Davie." 



An hour later David Colburn had bade good-bye with " God bless thee " 

 to his wife and his three darling little ones, and his wife's triumphant "God 

 keep thee, my husband," still sounded soothingly in his ears as he walked 

 down to the wharf where the waiting schooner Sfiow-Bird lay. 



And Janet, for all her brave words and her sure faith — for all her stern 

 principle — carried a sore heart that night. She went about her duties calm- 

 ly, but her step was slow. David was gone. They had counted on living 

 their wedding day over again together, to make that one day's perfect hap- 

 piness in their newly built cottage give all its sweets to them over again in 

 talk and loving memory — but now David was gone ! 



She was kneeling at dusk on the hearth, toasting bread for the children's 

 supper. Suddenly a heavy step sounded from the walk, then came a quick 

 knock and the door was flung rudely open. 



" Ho ! Janet. Janet Colburn ! Are ye there } " 



With a startled cry the young frightened wife sprang up, letting her toast- 

 ing fork and her bread fall back upon the fire. 



"Kenneth Foster!" she exclaimed, falling back a step as the light fell on 

 and revealed her visitor's face. 



"Ay, it is I ! Your memory is good, Janet, just as mine is. And you are 

 all alone. I came to see how you look in widow's tears. You'll make a 

 fine widow, Janet. There's many a man will be seeking for your hand when 

 the year's out. The widow Colburn's hand ! " 



The fair face of the listening woman had grown deadly white during the 

 uttering of this man's wild words. She held her children tight to her, gath- 

 ering strength from their soft touch as she answered — her voice, too, was 

 gentle, if weak — 



" I am alone here with my children, as you see, Mr. Foster. My husband 

 left me to-night. I ask you to leave me till he comes back ; you can say 

 what you wish to him then." 



"Till he comes back!" Kenneth Foster repeated her words, and then 



