This was a day she set apart from other days when it came round, for it was in the evening her father's canoe capsized.

Since they drifted out on the Shadow, she had followed the track of his last voyage, and wondered with poignant tenderness what he had thought and felt.

Somehow she did not believe he had come back embittered by disappointment, and it was perhaps strange that she did not feel sad.
Indeed, she felt nothing of the shrinking she had feared.

Although her eyes filled now and then, her mood was calm, and sorrow had yielded to a gentle melancholy.
In the meantime, the current swept them on, past rippling eddies and rings of foam about half-covered rocks, and presently a gray trail of smoke stretched far along the bank.

Thirlwell said the woods were burning; they often burned in summer, though nobody knew how the fires were lighted.