his coming; and so Anthony awaited his end.

* * * * *

Out of the Sea

It was about ten of the clock on a November morning in the little
village of Blea-on-the-Sands. The hamlet was made up of some thirty
houses, which clustered together on a low rising ground. The place was
very poor, but some old merchant of bygone days had built in a pious
mood a large church, which was now too great for the needs of the place;
the nave had been unroofed in a heavy gale, and there was no money to
repair it, so that it had fallen to decay, and the tower was joined to
the choir by roofless walls. This was a sore trial to the old priest,
Father Thomas, who had grown grey there; but he had no art in gathering
money, which he asked for in a shamefaced way; and the vicarage was a
poor one, hardly enough for the old man's needs. So the church lay
desolate.

The village stood on what must once have been an island; the little
river Reddy, which runs down to the sea, there forking into two channels
on the landward side; towards the sea the ground was bare, full of
sand-hills covered with a short grass. Towards the land was a small wood
of gnarled trees, the boughs of which were all brushed smooth by the
gales; looking landward there was the green flat, in which the river
ran, rising into low hills; hardly a house was visible save one or two
lonely farms; two or three church towers rose above the hills at a long
distance away. Indeed Blea was much cut off from the world; there was a
bridge over the stream on the west side, but over the other channel was
no bridge, so that to fare eastward it was requisite to go in a boat.
To seaward there were wide sands, when the tide was out; when it was in,
it came up nearly to the end of the village street. The people were
mostly fishermen, but there were a few farmers and labourers; the boats
of the fishermen lay to the east side of the village, near the river
channel which gave some draught of water; and the channel was marked out
by big black stakes and posts that straggled out over the sands, like
awkward leaning figures, to the sea's brim.

Father Thomas lived in a small and ancient brick house near the church,
with a little garden of herbs attached. He was a kindly man, much worn
by age and weather, with a wise heart, and he loved the quiet life with
his small flock. This morning he had come out of his house to look
abroad, before he settled down to