ed them.
Whatever evil feelings had sprung up on the road, at least a majority of
the company resolved to enjoy themselves now. Jemima entered heart and
soul into the preparations, keeping a sharp eye on her father all the
time. He, poor man, scarcely required her vigilance, for when a chowder
was to be concocted, the stout man forgot all his gallant weaknesses,
and gave his whole being up to the important subject.

Mrs. Harrington had no great talent for cookery, and feeling beaten and
awed by Jemima's dashing generalship, hovered around the outskirts of
the preparations, and flirting a little with Hawkins, from languid
habit, rather than any special regard for the young gentleman.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FACE TO FACE.

During the bustle of these preparations, Elizabeth, Mr. North and Elsie
had dropped out of the party and wandered off, no doubt, into the shady
places of the woods; no one had observed how or where they went. Hawkins
had been with Elsie at first, but she had sent him down a ravine for
some tinted ash leaves, and when he came back to the stone on which she
had been sitting, it was vacant. Probably she had become tired of
waiting, and had gone in search of the forest leaves herself; as for
Mrs. Mellen and North, of course they were all right somewhere, and
would be on hand safe enough when the chowder was ready.

While Mrs. Harrington and Hawkins were talking in this idle fashion,
they sat on a large ledge of rock that crowned the very brink of the
precipice; and chancing to look down, saw two persons near the foot
moving towards the tavern. One they recognised, even from that distance,
to be Mr. North, for his tall, grand figure was not to be mistaken. The
other was a lady; the dark riding-dress and floating plumes might belong
to any female of the party, there was no individuality in a dress like
that. The couple had evidently found some passage down the brow of the
precipice, for it would have been impossible to reach the spot where
they stood by any other route.

"Well," said Mrs. Harrington, "if that isn't a sly proceeding; what on
earth does it mean? How Mrs. Mellen can drag her long skirts down that
hill, just to look at a common tavern, which she's seen a hundred times,
I cannot imagine."

"Perhaps they are going down to the beach," said Hawkins, who had no
more malice in his composition than a swallow.

"No, no! they are turning toward the house," said the widow,
considerably excited.