The preacher was startled, and spoke sharply.
“You are not speaking in a proper manner!” she said. “What right have you to speak so to me?”
“You asked me!” said Isla. “What did you want me to say?”
They were both silent for a time.
“Why do you think this?” said the preacher then. “What can you know about these things, living here with no teaching and no light save that of your own heart, which is sinful?”
Isla laughed.
“I had a father!” she said. “Do you suppose that Great One needed Giles to tell Him how to treat His children?”
“What can I know?” she repeated. “I know what the sea tells me all day, all my life; and what the clouds tell me, and the birds; but most of all I know what my little Jacob tells me. Look at him! Is he sinful? If you say that, then I see that you do not know. But my sea knows, and it tells me, all day long. All day long!” the girl repeated; and her eyes grew soft and dreamy as she gazed out over the blue, white-tossing water. The preacher would have answered, for she was shocked and pained at this unseemly talk; but suddenly some words came to her mind, and silenced her.
“Deep answereth unto deep—”
“I must go!” she said, rising. “I should like to see you again, Isla, and talk with you; your—your thoughts are strange to me, but I feel that your heart is good. I must go now back to the village.” She kissed the little boy, who cooed and smiled in return, and turned to find her way back to the village; but Isla was at her side.