nsferred his inquiries
to the higher authority in the house.

"Do you know anything of this Mr. Vanstone who is down here on the
visitors' list?" asked the sailor. "Is he an old man?"

"He's a miserable little creature to look at," replied the landlady;
"but he's not old, captain."

"Then he's not the man I mean. Perhaps he is the man's son? Has he got
any ladies with him?"

The landlady tossed her head, and pursed up her lips disparagingly.

"He has a housekeeper with him," she said. "A middle-aged person--not
one of my sort. I dare say I'm wrong--but I don't like a dressy woman in
her station of life."

Mr. Kirke began to look puzzled. "I must have made some mistake about
the house," he said. "Surely there's a lawn cut octagon-shape
at Sea-view Cottage, and a white flag-staff in the middle of the
gravel-walk?"

"That's not Sea-view, sir! It's North Shingles you're talking of. Mr.
Bygrave's. His wife and his niece came here by the coach to-day. His
wife's tall enough to be put in a show, and the worst-dressed woman I
ever set eyes on. But Miss Bygrave is worth looking at, if I may venture
to say so. She's the finest girl, to my mind, we've had at Aldborough
for many a long day. I wonder who they are! Do you know the name,
captain?"

"No," said Mr. Kirke, with a shade of disappointment on his dark,
weather-beaten face; "I never heard the name before."

After replying in those words, he rose to take his leave. The landlord
vainly invited him to drink a parting glass; the landlady vainly pressed
him to stay another ten minutes and try a cup of tea. He only replied
that his sister expected him, and that he must return to the parsonage
immediately.

On leaving the hotel Mr. Kirke set his face westward, and walked inland
along the highroad as fast as the darkness would let him.

"Bygrave?" he thought to himself. "Now I know her name, how much am I
the wiser for it! If it had been Vanstone, my father's son might have
had a chance of making acquaintance with her." He stopped, and looked
back in the direction of Aldborough. "What a fool I am!" he burst out
suddenly, striking his stick on the ground. "I was forty last birthday."
He turned and went on again faster than ever--his head down; his
resolute black eyes searching the darkness on the land as they had
searched it many a time on the sea from the deck of his ship.

After more than an hour's walking he reached a village, with a primitive
little church and par