I heard him rise; I heard his steps soft on the cedar-strewn path. Jamie must have followed him, for in a moment I heard him calling from the shore:
"Mother, Marcia, come on! André says it's time to light the beacon."
I joined Mrs. Macleod, and in the dusk we made our way over to the pile of wood.
"You are to light it, mademoiselle," said André, handing me the flaming pine knot. I obeyed mechanically, for André's words were filling all the night with confusing sounds that seemed to echo conflictingly from shore to shore.
"Just here, by the birch bark, mademoiselle."
The beacon caught; there was no wind. The bark snapped, curled and shrivelled; the branches crackled; the little flames leaped, the fire crept higher and higher till it lighted our faces and the waters in the foreground. We waited and watched till we heard a faint "hurrah", and soon, in the distance, a calcium light burned red and long. We went down again to the cove. Jamie was with his mother; I walked behind with André.
"André," I whispered to him, "when you first saw me you said, 'I have waited many years for you to come'. Why did you say that?"
"Why? Because I desired to speak the truth."
"Am I like some one you have seen before? Tell me."
"Yes."