Then he sought out a lawyer of repute, whose name he had got from the Vicar, and gave him instructions for the drawing of a brief but comprehensive deed of settlement of all Margaret’s portion on herself absolutely and entirely.  While this important document was being engrossed, he sought out the Rector of St. Peter Port, in George Place, and in a short but pleasant interview was accepted as tenant of the whole of the Red House in Sark for the month of July, with the option of a longer stay if he chose.

Then back to the lawyer’s, where he signed his deed, paid the fees, and took it away with him.

After that, to fill in the time occupied elsewhere by the purchase of mythical tablecloths, he rambled up and down the quaint foreign-flavoured streets till he found a jeweller’s shop of size, in the Arcade, and decided, after careful inspection from the outside, that it would answer all requirements.

For he had a ring and half a ring to buy for Margaret, and he thought he would buy one also for Hennie Penny, as a pleasant reminder of their good days in Sark.

So utterly unconventional had their proceedings been, so thoroughly had the spirit of the remote little island possessed them, and so all-sufficient had they been to one another, that the thought of an engagement ring had troubled his mind as little as the lack of it had troubled Margaret’s.  But the absolute necessity of a wedding ring had reminded him of his lapse, and now he would repair it on a scale remotely commensurate with his feelings.  Remotely, because, if his pocket had borne any relation to his feelings, he would have bought up the whole shop and lavished its contents upon her, though he knew that the simple golden circlet would far outweigh all else in her mind.

He was waiting placidly for them in the shade of the dark trees of Hauteville, when they came panting up the steep way, flushed with victory and the joys of purchase after long abstinence.

“Well, has the proprietor of that big shop retired with a competence?” he asked, as he threw away the end of his cigar.

“Can you lend us our boat-fares home?” gasped Miss Penny.

“So bad as all that?  I can’t say yet.  I’ve not begun my own purchases.  We’ll see when I’m through.  If I’m cleaned out too we’ll offer to work our passages.”

“You can pawn your watch.  Meg and I haven’t got one between us.  We left them at home on purpose.”

“Thoughtful of you.  Now let us into the treasure-house.”

They enjoyed the wonders of Hauteville immensely,—­objectively, the wonderful carved work and the tapestries, the china and the furniture,—­the odd little bedroom with the bed on the floor, so that the Master could roll out to his work at any moment of inspiration, and the huge balconies, and the glass eyrie on the roof whence he surveyed his wide horizons, and where, above the world, he worked;—­and subjectively, the whole quaint flavour and austere literary atmosphere of the place.