To the left a large dark mass seemed to lie upon the water, and to that Mrs.Costello's eyes turned.
"There is the island," she said in a low voice.

"Your birthplace, Lucia, and my first Canadian home." But in vain Lucia strained her eyes to distinguish the size or form of the land.

The end of the island which they were approaching was still thickly wooded, and the drooping branches added still more vagueness to the outline.

Only as they came nearer a small clearing was dimly distinguishable, where a kind of promontory ran out into the river, and on the point of land a small white house.
Mrs.Costello laid her hand upon Lucia's.
"Look!" she said, "can you see that space where the house stands?
What a lonely place it looks! I wonder how I lived there for six years.

I can see even the place where the canoe used to lie on the beach.