Isla HeronTHE morning service was over, and the congrega tion gone home. The preacher was to dine with Captain Maynard, but there was an hour and more to dinner time, and she had begged permission to stroll about for half an hour, promising to find her way to the comfortable white cottage, perched on a point of rock over looking the little bay. Now she was standing on the lower rocks, looking about her; a trim, quiet figure in a black gown, with a close straw