d what _he_ would have wished. I'm glad I have had
the courage to make the attempt. He will surely acknowledge her now, and
my one prayer is that he will not take her away from me."

CHAPTER III.

A MEETING ON THE SANDS.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet."

The little town of Silversands was built on the cliffs by the sea, so
close over the greeny-blue water that the dash of the waves was always
in your ears and the taste of the salt spray on your lips. The
picturesque thatched fishermen's cottages lay scattered one above
another down the steep hillside at such strange and irregular angles
that the narrow streets which led from the quay wound in and out like a
maze, and you found your way to the shore down flights of wide steps
under low archways, or by a pathway cut through your neighbour's cabbage
patch. It was not difficult to guess the occupation of most of the
inhabitants, for fishing-nets of all descriptions might be seen hanging
out to dry over every available railing; great flat skates and conger
eels were nailed to the doorways to be cured in the sun; rosy-faced
women appeared to be eternally washing blue jerseys, which fluttered
like flags from the various little gardens; and the bare-headed,
brown-legged children who gathered cockles on the sands, or angled for
crabs from the jetty, seemed as much at home in the water as on dry
land. The harbour was decidedly fishy; bronzed burly seamen were
perpetually unloading cargoes of herrings which they stowed away into
barrels, or lobsters that were carefully packed in baskets to be
dispatched to the neighbouring towns. There was a kind of open-air
market, fitted up with rickety stalls where you might buy fresh cod and
mackerel still alive and shining with all the lovely fleeting colours
which fade so quickly when they are taken from the water. You could
afford to be extravagant in the way of shell-fish, if you liked such
delicacies, since a large red cotton pocket-handkerchief full of cockles
and mussels only cost a penny, and whelks and periwinkles sold at a
halfpenny the pint.

At high water the quay was always agog with excitement, the coming in of
the boats being accompanied with that hauling of ropes, creaking of
windlasses, shouting of hoarse voices and general confusion both among
toiling workers and idle loungers that seem inseparable from the
business of a port, while the occasional a