“Good night, all of you,” he said, as he went out.
Anne, pierced by the unusual wistfulness of his farewell, ran to the door after him.
“Come back soon, Captain Jim,” she called, as he passed through the little gate hung between the firs.
“Ay, ay,” he called cheerily back to her. But Captain Jim had sat by the old fireside of the house of dreams for the last time.
Anne went slowly back to the others.
“It’s so—so pitiful to think of him going all alone down to that lonely Point,” she said. “And there is no one to welcome him there.”
“Captain Jim is such good company for others that one can’t imagine him being anything but good company for himself,” said Owen. “But he must often be lonely. There was a touch of the seer about him tonight—he spoke as one to whom it had been given to speak. Well, I must be going, too.”
Anne and Gilbert discreetly melted away; but when Owen had gone Anne returned, to find Leslie standing by the hearth.
“Oh, Leslie—I know—and I’m so glad, dear,” she said, putting her arms about her.
“Anne, my happiness frightens me,” whispered Leslie. “It seems too great to be real—I’m afraid to speak of it—to think of it. It seems to me that it must just be another dream of this house of dreams and it will vanish when I leave here.”
“Well, you are not going to leave here—until Owen
