first at the lady and the children, found their way next to the
gentleman--and saw repeated in his face, the same black-blue complexion
which had startled me in the face of Oscar's brother, when I first opened
my eyes at the rectory! For the moment I felt startled again--more, as I
believe, by the unexpected repetition of the blue face in the face of a
stranger, than by the ugliness of the complexion itself. At any rate, I
was composed enough to admire the lady's dress, and the beauty of the
children, before they had passed beyond my range of view. Oscar spoke to
me, while I was looking at them, in a tone of reproach for which, as I
thought, there was no occasion and no excuse.

"I tried to spare you," he said. "You have yourself to thank, if that man
has frightened you."

"He has _not_ frightened me," I answered--sharply enough.

Oscar looked at me very attentively; and sat down again, without saying a
word more.

The good-humoured old woman, on my other side, who had seen and heard all
that had passed, began to talk of the gentleman with the discolored face,
and of the lady and the children who accompanied him. He was a retired
Indian officer, she said. The lady was his wife, and the two beautiful
children were his own children. "It seems a pity that such a handsome man
should be disfigured in that way," my new acquaintance remarked. "But
still, it don't matter much, after all. There he is, as you see, with a
fine woman for a wife, and with two lovely children. I know the landlady
of the house where they lodge--and a happier family you couldn't lay your
hand on in all England. That is my friend's account of them. Even a blue
face don't seem such a dreadful misfortune, when you look at it in that
light--does it, Miss?"

I entirely agreed with the old lady. Our talk seemed, for some
incomprehensible reason, to irritate Oscar. He got up again impatiently,
and looked at his watch.

"Your aunt will be wondering what has become of us," he said. "Surely you
have had enough of the mob on the sands, by this time?"

I had not had enough of it, and I should have been quite content to have
made one of the mob for some time longer. But I saw that Oscar would be
seriously vexed if I persisted in keeping my place. So I took leave of my
nice old lady, and left the pleasant sands--not very willingly.

He said nothing more, until we had threaded our way out of the crowd.
Then he returned, without any reason for it that I could