y known them by
hearsay shook their heads over the extravagance they as yet only knew
by report. But it was in the dead ebb of the tide and the waning
daylight that the feathered tenants of the Marsh seemed to voice dismal
prophecies of the ruin of their old master and mistress, and to give
themselves up to gloomiest lamentation and querulous foreboding.
Whether the traditional "bird of the air" had entrusted his secret to a
few ornithological friends, or whether from a natural disposition to
take gloomy views of life, it was certain that at this hour the vocal
expression of the Marsh was hopeless and despairing. It was then that
a dejected plover, addressing a mocking crew of sandpipers on a
floating log, seemed to bewail the fortune that was being swallowed up
by the riotous living and gambling debts of Jim. It was then that the
querulous crane rose, and testily protested against the selling of his
favorite haunt in the sandy peninsula, which only six months of Jim's
excesses had made imperative. It was then that a mournful curlew, who,
with the preface that he had always been really expecting it,
reiterated the story that Jim had been seen more than once staggering
home with nervous hands and sodden features from a debauch with the
younger officers; it was the same desponding fowl who knew that
Maggie's eyes had more than once filled with tears at Jim's failings,
and had already grown more hollow with many watchings. It was a flock
of wrangling teal that screamingly discussed the small scandals,
jealous heart-burnings, and curious backbitings that had attended
Maggie's advent into society. It was the high-flying brent who,
knowing how the sensitive girl, made keenly conscious at every turn of
her defective training and ingenuous ignorance, had often watched their
evening flight with longing gaze, now "honked" dismally at the
recollection. It was at this hour and season that the usual vague
lamentings of Dedlow Marsh seemed to find at last a preordained
expression. And it was at such a time, when light and water were both
fading, and the blackness of the Marsh was once more reasserting
itself, that a small boat was creeping along one of the tortuous
inlets, at times half hiding behind the bank like a wounded bird. As
it slowly penetrated inland it seemed to be impelled by its solitary
occupant in a hesitating uncertain way, as if to escape observation
rather than as if directed to any positive bourn. Stopping