sterous; and,
except that the distant hills were covered with snow, and that a heavy
swell still continued to roll in from the sea, there remained scarce any
trace of the recent tempest. Every hollow of the neighbouring hill had
its little runnel, formed by the rains of the previous night, that now
splashed and glistened to the sun. The bushes round the cottage were
well nigh divested of their leaves; but their red berries--hips and
haws, and the juicy fruit of the honeysuckle--gleamed cheerfully to the
light; and a warm steam of vapour, like that of a May morning, rose from
the roof and the little mossy platform in front. But the scene seemed to
have something more than merely its beauty to recommend it to a young
man, drawn apparently to the spot, with many others, by the fate of the
two unfortunate fishermen, and who now stood gazing on the rocks, and
the hills, and the cottage, as a lover on the features of his mistress.
The bodies had been carried to an old storehouse, which may still be
seen a short mile to the west, and the crowds that, during the early
part of the morning, had been perambulating the beach, gazing at the
wreck, and discussing the various probabilities of the accident, had
gradually dispersed. But this solitary individual, whom no one knew,
remained behind. He was a tall and swarthy, though very handsome man, of
about five-and-twenty, with a slight scar on his left cheek; his dress,
which was plain and neat, was distinguished from that of the common
seaman by three narrow stripes of gold lace on the upper part of one of
the sleeves. He had twice stepped towards the cottage door, and twice
drawn back, as if influenced by some unaccountable feeling--timidity,
perhaps, or bashfulness; and yet the bearing of the man gave little
indication of either. But, at length, as if he had gathered heart, he
raised the latch and went in.

The widow, who had had many visitors that morning, seemed to be
scarcely aware of his entrance; she was sitting on a low seat beside the
fire, her face covered with her hands, while the tremulous rocking
motion of her body showed that she was still brooding over the
distresses of the previous night. Her companion, who had thrown herself
across the bed, was fast asleep. The stranger seated himself beside the
fire, which seemed dying amid its ashes, and, turning sedulously from
the light of the window, laid his hand gently on the widow's shoulder.
She started, and looked up.

"I