d in a
dark room."

"Y ... yes, Rupert."

"You will moreover swear to me, now, that you will not speak of our
interview here till I give you leave; say I swear I will not."

"I swear I will not."

"So help me God!"

"Oh, Rupert."

"_So help me God_, you fool!"

Sophia's lips murmured an inaudible something; but there was such
complete submission in every line and curve of her figure, in the very
droop of her ringlets and the helpless appeal of her gaze that Rupert
was satisfied. He assisted her to arise from her tombstone, bundled
the clerical love-tokens back into the bag, duly placed Captain Jack's
letter in the inner pocket, and was about to present her with his arm
to conduct her homewards, when he caught sight of a little ragged
urchin peeping through the bars of the gate, and seemingly in the very
act of making a mysterious signal in the direction of Miss Landale's
unconscious figure.

Rupert stared hard at the ruddy, impudent face, which instantly
assumed an appearance of the most defiant unconcern, while its owner
began to devote his energies to shying stones at an invisible rook
upon the old church tower with great nicety of aim.

"Sophia," said her brother in a low tone, "go to the gate: that boy
wants to speak to you. Go and see what he wants and return to me."

Miss Landale gasped, gazed at her brother as if she thought him mad,
looked round at the little boy, coloured violently, then meeting
Rupert's eye again staggered off without a word of protest.

Rupert, shaken with silent laughter, humming a little song to himself,
stooped to pick a couple of tender spring flowers from the border
beside the grave, and after slipping them into a button-hole of his
many caped overcoat, stood looking out over the stretch of land and
sea, where Scarthey rose like a dream against the sparkle of the water
and the exquisite blue of the sky.

Presently rapid panting breaths and a shuffling rustle of petticoats
behind him informed him of his sister's return.

"So you are there, my dear," he said loudly. "One of your little
fishing friends from the village, I suppose--a Shearman, unless I am
mistaken. Yes, a Shearman; I thought so. Well, shall we return home
now? They will be wondering what has become of us. Pray take my arm."
Then beneath his breath, seeing that words were struggling to Sophia's
lips, "Hold your tongue."

The small ragged boy watched their departure with a derisive grin, and
set off at a br