pposite way, because he was afraid of his own turn. The
constitution must be upheld, and, by the Lord! it shall be--at any rate,
in East Bruntsea. West Bruntsea is all a small-pox warren out of my
control, and a skewer in my flesh. And some of my tenants have gone
across the line to snap their dirty hands at me."

Being once in this cue, Major Hockin went on, not talking to me much,
but rather to himself, though expecting me now and then to say "yes;"
and this I did when necessary, for his principles of action were beyond
all challenge, and the only question was how he carried them out.

He took me to his rampart, which was sure to stop the sea, and at the
same time to afford the finest place in all Great Britain for a view of
it. Even an invalid might sit here in perfect shelter from the heaviest
gale, and watch such billows as were not to be seen except upon the
Major's property.

"The reason of that is quite simple," he said, "and a child may see the
force of it. In no other part of the kingdom can you find so steep a
beach fronting the southwest winds, which are ten to one of all other
winds, without any break of sand or rock outside. Hence we have what you
can not have on a shallow shore--grand rollers: straight from the very
Atlantic, Erema; you and I have seen them. You may see by the map that
they all end here, with the wind in the proper quarter."

"Oh, please not to talk of such horrors," I said. "Why, your ramparts
would go like pie crust."

The Major smiled a superior smile, and after more talk we went home to
dinner.

From something more than mere curiosity, I waited at Bruntsea for a day
or two, hoping to see that strange namesake of mine who had shown so
much inhospitality. For she must have been at home when we made that
pressing call, inasmuch as there was no other place to hide her within
the needful distance of the spot where she had stood. But the longer
I waited, the less would she come out--to borrow the good Irishman's
expression--and the Major's pillar-box, her favorite resort, was left in
conspicuous solitude. And when a letter came from Sir Montague Hockin,
asking leave to be at Bruntlands on the following evening, I packed
up my goods with all haste, and set off, not an hour too soon, for
Shoxford.

But before taking leave of these kind friends, I begged them to do for
me one little thing, without asking me to explain my reason, which,
indeed, was more than I could do. I begged them, n