had not found O'Shea either civil or communicative; but it
appeared that the lady had something more to say after her emphasis of
pause, and when she said it Caius bid her good-day without making
further excuse or justification. She said:

"I did not understand from O'Shea that he allowed you to walk on the
sands without some one who would have warned you if there had been
danger."

When Caius was riding on his way, he experienced something of that
feeling of exaltation that he had felt in the presence of his
inexplicable lady-love. Had he not proof at least now that she was no
dream or phantasy, and more than that, that she inhabited the same small
land with him? These people knew her; nay (his mind worked quickly), was
it not evident that she had been the link of connection between them and
himself? She knew him, then--his home, his circumstances, his address.
(His horse was going now where and how it would; the man's mind was
confounded by the questions that came upon it pell-mell, none waiting
for an answer.) In that other time when she had lived in the sea, and he
had seen her from the desolate bit of coast, who was she? Where had she
really lived? In what way could she have gained her information
concerning him? What could have tempted her to play the part of a fishy
thing? He remembered the monstrous skin that had covered her; he
remembered her motion in the water. Then he thought of her in the gray
homespun dress, such as a maid might trip her garden in, as he had seen
her travelling between the surf and the dune in the winter blast. Well,
he lived in an enchanted land; he had to deal with men and women of no
ordinary stuff and make, but they acknowledged their connection with
her. He was sure that she must be near him. The explanation must
come--of that, burning with curiosity as he was, he recked little. A
meeting must come; all his pulses tingled with the thought. It was a
thought of such a high sort of bliss to him that it seemed to wrap and
enfold his other thoughts; and when he remembered again to guide his
horse--all that day as he went about his work--he lived in it and worked
in it.

He went that evening to visit O'Shea, who lived in a good-sized house
half a mile or so from his own. From this interview, and from the clue
which Madame Le Maitre had given, he began strongly to suspect that, for
some reason unknown, O'Shea's threatenings were to be remembered more in
the light of a practical joke than