The Mermaid

in the mind of this gray-haired countryman. The elder Simpson had never set foot off the edge of his native island. His father before him had tilled the same fertile acres, looked out upon the same

prosperous farm, and the firm intention of the presen

tuff of this vision was, as must always be, of such sort as had entered his mind in the course of his limited experience. His grandfather had been an Englishman, and it was known that one of the sons had been a notable physician in the city of London: Caius must become a notable physician. His newspaper told him of ho

students in a medical school which for size and thorough work is not to be despised. He was not slow to drink in the new

he old man had money, but he had no habit of spending it, and expenditure, like economy, is a pract

mblazonment of his poetic effort upon the cliff. He was not ashamed of the sentiment which had prompted it, but he was ashamed of its exhibition. He still

road by the sea on this errand. Before going to the shore, he

ut of his wife than out of the children, and, furthermore, it saved his having to pay for her board elsewhere. The woman had been at home almost a twelvemonth, and Caius had some natural interest in questioning Morrison as to her welfare and general demeanour. The strange gaunt creature had for his imagination very much the fascination that a gho

or that she was sorry. To the old man's imagination Mrs. Day was not an interesting object; his interest had always been centred upon the children. It was of them he talked chiefly now, telling of letters that their father had received from them, and of the art by which he, Morrison, had sometimes contrived to make the taciturn Day show him their contents. The inter

outside. The house was a little back from the road in an open space; near it was a pile of firewood, a saw-horse and chopping-block, w

s presence hampered his talk. Then he came out with an artfully simulated interest in the weather, and, nudging Caius at intervals, apparently to enforce silence

the place where the child had been drowned before the communication was made, and stood toget

owing within him, "but I tell you, young sir, I've sat jist here behind

" asked Caius, superior t

in the sea; and more than

ius was now en

e," said the old man

us was

d-humouredly-"w

an see across the bay, and across to the island and out to sea; but you can't see the shore under the rocky point whe

ything that's before your eyes, b

cackle of a laugh. "Well, don't go for to repeat what I'm going to tell you further, for I'll not have my old wo

t the thought of the sidelight this threw on Jim's character. For Jim was

on, but it was before sun-up, and I was walking along here, and the tide was out, and between me and the island I saw what I thought was a person swimming in the water, and I thought to myself, 'It's queer, for there's no one about these parts that has a liking for the water.' But when I

know it was a wom

racks for the back of the island where I couldn't see her. But I tell you this, young sir, no woman or man either ever swam as she swam. Have you se

s no

is voice, as one who capped an argument, "d

never did-especially as t

gerly, "for I saw her the second day-that I'm

e first day?" asked Caius,

? No." The old man giggled again at his own logical way of putting things. "Well, no more could I see

Caius murmured. The sight of the dim-eyed, decrepit

unched forth upon the s

s again. "But I tell you, young sir, when I saw her a-coming round from behind the bank, where I couldn't see jist where she had come from, like as if she had come across the bay round this point here, I thought no more of the cramps, but I jist sat on my heels, looking with one eye to see that my old woman didn't come, and I watched that 'ere thing, and it came as near as I could throw a stone, and I tell you it was a girl with long hair,

's reflection-"that it's

" said the old man, with a

e thing; you couldn

ing before long, what I tell you is true; but if I was you, I'd have more sense than to believe it." He laughed again, and press

rough flint struck upon the roadside. Caius pondered upon it afterwards, for he never saw Neddy Morriso

son in mischief or malice to have played the hoax, but no locality in the wide world would have seemed more unlikely to be the scene of such a game; for who performs theatricals to amuse the lonely shore, or the ebbing tide, or the sea-birds that poise in the air or pounce upon the fish when the sea is gray at dawn? And certainly the deception of the old man could not have been the object of the play, for it was but by chance that he saw it, and it could matter to no one what he saw or thought or felt, for he was one of the most insignificant of earth's sons. Then Caius would think of that curious gleam of deeper insight the poor old mind had displayed in the atte