with a battered old ship sailing through the sunrise splendor.
“And Persis Leigh was on board?” asked Anne.
“Yes—her and the captain’s wife. They’d had an awful passage—storm after storm—and their provisions give out, too. But there they were at last. When Persis Leigh stepped onto the old wharf John Selwyn took her in his arms—and folks stopped cheering and begun to cry. I cried myself, though ’twas years, mind you, afore I’d admit it. Ain’t it funny how ashamed boys are of tears?”
“Was Persis Leigh beautiful?” asked Anne.
“Well, I don’t know that you’d call her beautiful exactly—I—don’t—know,” said Captain Jim slowly. “Somehow, you never got so far along as to wonder if she was handsome or not. It jest didn’t matter. There was something so sweet and winsome about her that you had to love her, that was all. But she was pleasant to look at—big, clear, hazel eyes and heaps of glossy brown hair, and an English skin. John and her were married at our house that night at early candle-lighting; everybody from far and near was there to see it and we all brought them down here afterwards. Mistress Selwyn lighted the fire, and we went away and left them sitting here, jest as John had seen in that vision of his. A strange thing—a strange thing! But I’ve seen a turrible lot of strange things in my time.”
Captain Jim shook his head sagely.
