road, and, there is one residence, some way from the road, so
secluded that no other house lies within a mile of it by land. By
water it might probably be reached within half a mile. This place
was called Crump Island, and here lived, and had lived for many
years, an old gentleman, a native of Bermuda, whose business it had
been to buy up cedar wood and sell it to the ship-builders at
Hamilton. In our story we shall not have very much to do with old
Mr. Bergen, but it will be necessary to say a word or two about his
house.

It stood upon what would have been an island in the creek, had not a
narrow causeway, barely broad enough for a road, joined it to that
larger island on which stands the town of St. George. As the main
road approaches the ferry it runs through some rough, hilly, open
ground, which on the right side towards the ocean has never been
cultivated. The distance from the ocean here may, perhaps, be a
quarter of a mile, and the ground is for the most part covered with
low furze. On the left of the road the land is cultivated in
patches, and here, some half mile or more from the ferry, a path
turns away to Crump Island. The house cannot be seen from the road,
and, indeed, can hardly be seen at all, except from the sea. It
lies, perhaps, three furlongs from the high road, and the path to it
is but little used, as the passage to and from it is chiefly made by
water.

Here, at the time of our story, lived Mr. Bergen, and here lived Mr.
Bergen's daughter. Miss Bergen was well known at St. George's as a
steady, good girl, who spent her time in looking after her father's
household matters, in managing his two black maid-servants and the
black gardener, and who did her duty in that sphere of life to which