one
thing--the stronghold inside it had been held by Danes, while severed by
the Dike from inland parts, and these Danes made a good colony of their
own, and left to their descendants distinct speech and manners, some
traces of which are existing even now. The Dike, extending from the
rough North Sea to the calmer waters of Bridlington Bay, is nothing more
than a deep dry trench, skillfully following the hollows of the ground,
and cutting off Flamborough Head and a solid cantle of high land from
the rest of Yorkshire. The corner so intercepted used to be and is still
called "Little Denmark"; and the in-dwellers feel a large contempt for
all their outer neighbors. And this is sad, because Anerley Farm lies
wholly outside of the Dike, which for a long crooked distance serves as
its eastern boundary.

Upon the morning of the self-same day that saw Mr. Jellicorse set forth
upon his return from Scargate Hall, armed with instructions to defy the
devil, and to keep his discovery quiet--upon a lovely August morning of
the first year of a new century, Mary Anerley, blithe and gay, came
riding down the grassy hollow of this ancient Dane's Dike. This was her
shortest way to the sea, and the tide would suit (if she could only
catch it) for a take of shrimps, and perhaps even prawns, in time for
her father's breakfast. And not to lose this, she arose right early, and
rousing Lord Keppel, set forth for the spot where she kept her net
covered with sea-weed. The sun, though up and brisk already upon sea and
foreland, had not found time to rout the shadows skulking in the
dingles. But even here, where sap of time had breached the turfy
ramparts, the hover of the dew-mist passed away, and the steady light
was unfolded.

For the season was early August still, with beautiful weather come at
last; and the green world seemed to stand on tiptoe to make the
extraordinary acquaintance of the sun. Humble plants which had long lain
flat stood up with a sense of casting something off; and the damp heavy
trunks which had trickled for a twelvemonth, or been only sponged with
moss, were hailing the fresher light with keener lines and dove-colored
tints upon their smoother boles. Then, conquering the barrier of the
eastern land crest, rose the glorious sun himself, strewing before him
trees and crags in long steep shadows down the hill. Then the sloping
rays, through furze and brush-land, kindling the sparkles of the dew,
descended to the brink of t