"You would want a place fit for a lady?" he said, in a half-questioning
tone, and with a glance at my silk dress.

"No," I answered, eagerly. "I mean such a cottage as you would live in.
I would do all my own work, for I am very poor, and I do not know yet
how I can get my living. I must be very careful of my money till I find
out what I can do. What sort of a place do you and your wife live in?"

His face was clouded a little, I thought; and he did not answer me till
after a short silence.

"My poor little wife is dead," he answered, "and I do not live in
Guernsey or Jersey. We live in Sark, my mother and I. I am a fisherman,
but I have also a little farm, for with us the land goes from the father
to the eldest son, and I was the eldest. It is true we have one room to
spare, which might do for mam'zelle; but the island is far away, and
very _triste_. Jersey is gay, and so is Guernsey, but in the winter Sark
is too mournful."

"It will be just the place I want," I said, eagerly; "it would suit me
exactly. Can you let me go there at once? Will you take me with you?"

"Mam'zelle," he replied, smiling, "the room must be made ready for you,
and I must speak to my mother. Besides, Sark is six miles from Guernsey,
and to-day the passage would be too rough for you. If God sends us fair
weather I will come back to St. Peter-Port for you in three days. My
name is Tardif. You can ask the people in Peter-Port what sort of a man
Tardif of the Havre Gosselin is."

"I do not want any one to tell me what sort of a man you are," I said,