only once did she break this parole, and was stopped by the sentry as
she stepped into a boat at the landing.

The recluse did not avail himself of Miss Portfire's invitation. But
after the departure of the Princess he spent less of his time in the
hut, and was more frequently seen in the distant marshes of Eel River
and on the upland hills. A feverish restlessness, quite opposed to his
usual phlegm, led him into singular freaks strangely inconsistent with
his usual habits and reputation. The purser of the occasional steamer
which stopped at Logport with the mails reported to have been boarded,
just inside the bar, by a strange bearded man, who asked for a newspaper
containing the last war telegrams. He tore his red shirt into narrow
strips, and spent two days with his needle over the pieces and the
tattered remnant of his only white garment; and a few days afterward
the fishermen on the bay were surprised to see what, on nearer approach,
proved to be a rude imitation of the national flag floating from a spar
above the hut.

One evening, as the fog began to drift over the sand-hills, the recluse
sat alone in his hut. The fire was dying unheeded on the hearth, for
he had been sitting there for a long time, completely absorbed in the
blurred pages of an old newspaper. Presently he arose, and, refolding
it,--an operation of great care and delicacy in its tattered
condition,--placed it under the blankets of his bed. He resumed his seat
by the fire, but soon began drumming with his fingers on the arm of his
chair. Eventually this assumed the time and accent of some air. Then
he began to whistle softly and hesitatingly, as if trying to recall
a forgotten tune. Finally this took shape in a rude resemblance, not
unlike that which his flag bore to the national standard, to Yankee
Doodle. Suddenly he stopped.