a giant leaden image set up against a
vast pallor of sea and sky.

Mary Fisher choked down a hasty exclamation.

"Come, do come, Miss Damaris, before the grass gets too wet," she said
almost sharply. "It's going to be a drenching dew to-night."

"Yes--directly--in a minute--but, Mary, tell me who that is?"

The woman hesitated.

"Out on the Bar, do you mean? No one I am acquainted with, Miss."

"I did not intend to ask if he was a friend of yours," Damaris
returned, with a touch of grandeur, "but merely whether you could tell
me his name."

"Oh! it's Mrs. Faircloth's son I suppose--the person who keeps the Inn. I
heard he'd been home for a few days waiting for a ship"--and she turned
resolutely towards the house. "It's quite time that silver was taken
indoors and the library windows closed. But you must excuse me, Miss
Damaris, I can't have you stay out here in that thin gown in the damp.
You really must come with me, Miss."

And the child in Damaris obeyed. Dutifully it went, though the soul of
the eighteen-year-old Damaris was far away, started once more on an
anxious quest.

She heard the loose shingle shift and rattle under Faircloth's feet as he
swung down the near slope to the jetty. The sound pursued her, and again
she was overtaken--overwhelmed by foreboding and desire of flight.

CHAPTER II

WHICH CANTERS ROUND A PARISH PUMP

Not until the second bell was about to cease ringing did Theresa
Bilson--fussily consequential--reappear at The Hard.

During the absence of the master of the house she would have much
preferred high tea in the schoolroom, combined with a certain laxity as
to hours and to dress; but Damaris, in whom the sense of style was
innate, stood out for the regulation dignities of late dinner and evening
gowns. To-night, however, thanks to her own unpunctuality, Miss Bilson
found ample excuse for dispensing with ceremonial garments.

"No--no--we will not wait," she said, addressing Mary and her attendant
satellite, Laura, the under-housemaid, as--agreeably ignorant of the
sentiment of a servants' hall which thirsted for her blood--she passed
the two standing at attention by the open door of the dining-room. "I am
not going to change. I will leave my hat and things down here--Laura can
take them to my room later--and have dinner as I am."

During the course of that meal she explained how she had really quite
failed to observe the hour when she left the Grey House. Commander