all Green, a private cemetery, with its
granite monument, surrounded by heavy granite posts, every other one of
which is hollowed in the top as a receptacle for food for birds. And one
reads there these inscriptions: "Whatever their mode of faith, or creed,
who feed the wandering birds, will themselves be fed." "Who helps the
helpless, Heaven will help." This inland region, now apparently deserted
and neglected, was once the seat of colonial aristocracy, who exercised
a princely hospitality on their great plantations, exchanged visits and
ran horses with the planters of Virginia and the Carolinas, and were
known as far as Kentucky, and perhaps best known for their breed of
Narragansett pacers. But let us get back to the shore.

In wandering along the cliff path in the afternoon, Irene and Mr. King
were separated from the others, and unconsciously extended their stroll,
looking for a comfortable seat in the rocks. The day was perfect. The
sky had only a few fleecy, high-sailing clouds, and the great expanse of
sea sparkled under the hectoring of a light breeze. The atmosphere was
not too clear on the horizon for dreamy effects; all the headlands were
softened and tinged with opalescent colors. As the light struck them,
the sails which enlivened the scene were either dark spots or shining
silver sheets on the delicate blue. At one spot on this shore rises
a vast mass of detached rock, separated at low tide from the shore by
irregular bowlders and a tiny thread of water. In search of a seat the
two strollers made their way across this rivulet over the broken rocks,
passed over the summit of the giant mass, and established themselves
in a cavernous place close to the sea. Here was a natural seat, and
the bulk of the seamed and colored ledge, rising above their heads and
curving around them, shut them out of sight of the land, and left them
alone with the dashing sea, and the gulls that circled and dipped their
silver wings in their eager pursuit of prey. For a time neither
spoke. Irene was looking seaward, and Mr. King, who had a lower seat,
attentively watched the waves lapping the rocks at their feet, and the
fine profile and trim figure of the girl against the sky. He thought he
had never seen her looking more lovely, and yet he had a sense that she
never was so remote from him. Here was an opportunity, to be sure, if he
had anything to say, but some fine feeling of propriety restrained him
from taking advantage of it. It