storm."

The mist, instead of lifting, was growing less dense above, as it melted
before the rays of the sun, and the ruin which Richard had seen from the
hill-range was now once more visible, without the pedestal of rock on
which it was placed. It was a glorious sight, though weird and spectral,
and the young painter halted in mute admiration. The scene seemed
scarcely of the earth at all.

"Most folks are pleased with that when they first see it," remarked his
companion, with the flattered air of one who exhibits some wonder of his
own to a well-pleased stranger. "You are very lucky, Sir; it is not
often one gets so good a view."

"I am lucky, too, in having so fair a guide to show it me," said
Richard, gallantly. "There is a church in air too: what is that?"

"That is Gethin church, Sir. It stands all by itself, a mile from the
village; but folks say that the tower was first built for a landmark for
the ships, and that the church and church-yard were added afterward."

"Then people die here, do they, even in this land of dreams?" said
Richard, half to himself.

"Die, Sir? Oh yes," answered the young girl, sadly; "my own mother died
two years ago, and lies buried there in yonder lonesome place. But it is
not usual for Gethin folks to die so young, except by shipwreck."

"Are there many wrecks here, then?"

"Yes, Sir, and will be to all time; our church-yard is half full of
drowned men. On the nights before storm, up yonder, you may hear them
calling out each other's names."

"Have _you_ ever heard them?"

"Not I, Sir, thanks be to Heaven. I would not venture there at night for
the best cargo that ever came to Turlock."

"Where is Turlock?"

"The port there behind us, Sir; you can see the houses now, but not the
harbor. It winds beneath the cliff, so that a ship can scarcely make it,
save in smooth weather, though, when it once does so, it is safe enough.
To see the great green waves rush in and turn, and turn, and waste
themselves in their wild fury, as though they searched for it in
anger--ah! it's an awful sight."

"That is in winter-time only, I suppose?"

"Nay, Sir; we have storms at other seasons. Whenever I see such a sign
as the castle without the crag--it's all clear now, you see, because the
wind is rising--then am I thankful that my father is no sailor. Most
folk are such at Gethin that are not miners."

"Then your father is a miner, is he?"

"No, Sir, not now, though he once was. Every