The morning was dim and gusty and gray. The wind had
fallen, but the waves were tossing wildly. He wandered up and down
the little strand, longing for more light.
'At length he heard a movement in the cottage. By and by the voice
of the old woman called to him from the door.
'"You're up early, sir. I doubt you didn't sleep well."
'"Not very well," he answered. "But where is your daughter?"
'"She's not awake yet," said the mother. "I'm afraid I have but a
poor breakfast for you. But you'll take a dram and a bit of fish.
It's all I've got."
'Unwilling to hurt her, though hardly in good appetite, he sat down
at the table. While they were eating the daughter came in, but
turned her face away and went to the further end of the hut. When
she came forward after a minute or two, the youth saw that her hair
was drenched, and her face whiter than before. She looked ill and
faint, and when she raised her eyes, all their fierceness had
vanished, and sadness had taken its place. Her neck was now covered
with a cotton handkerchief. She was modestly attentive to him, and
no longer shunned his gaze. He was gradually yielding to the
temptation of braving another night in the hut, and seeing what
would follow, when the old woman spoke.
'"The weather will be broken all day, sir," she said. "You had
better be going, or your friends will leave without you."
'Ere he could answer, he saw such a beseeching glance on the face of
the girl, that he hesitated, confused.
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