And her thoughts travelled through a fascinating and delightful infinite, far, far away to the northern seas, where "_La Marie_, Captain Guermeur," was sailing.

A strange man was young Gaos! retiring and almost incomprehensible now, after having come forward so audaciously, yet so lovingly.
In her long reverie, she remembered her return to Brittany, which had taken place the year before.

One December morning after a night of travelling, the train from Paris had deposited her father and herself at Guingamp.

It was a damp, foggy morning, cold and almost dark.

She had been seized with a previously unknown feeling; she could scarcely recognise the quaint little town, which she had only seen during the summer--oh, that glad old time, the dear old times of the past! This silence, after Paris! This quiet life of people, who seemed of another world, going about their simple business in the misty morning.