there were at each side patches of the same broken rock as lower down,
through the chinks of which the sweet water of the natural stream
trickled and murmured after the tide had ebbed away. Here, too, rose
mooring posts for the fishermen's boats. At either side of the river was
a row of cottages down almost on the level of high tide. They were
pretty cottages, strongly and snugly built, with trim narrow gardens in
front, full of old-fashioned plants, flowering currants, coloured
primroses, wallflower, and stonecrop. Over the fronts of many of them
climbed clematis and wisteria. The window sides and door posts of all
were as white as snow, and the little pathway to each was paved with
light coloured stones. At some of the doors were tiny porches, whilst at
others were rustic seats cut from tree trunks or from old barrels; in
nearly every case the window ledges were filled with boxes or pots of
flowers or foliage plants.

Two men lived in cottages exactly opposite each other across the stream.
Two men, both young, both good-looking, both prosperous, and who had
been companions and rivals from their boyhood. Abel Behenna was dark
with the gypsy darkness which the Phoenician mining wanderers left in
their track; Eric Sanson--which the local antiquarian said was a
corruption of Sagamanson--was fair, with the ruddy hue which marked the
path of the wild Norseman. These two seemed to have singled out each
other from the very beginning to work and strive together, to fight for
each other and to stand back to back in all endeavours. They had now put
the coping-stone on their Temple of Unity by falling in love with the
same girl. Sarah Trefusis was certainly the prettiest girl in Pencastle,
and there was many a young man who would gladly have tried his fortune
with her, but that there were two to contend against, and each of these
the strongest and most resolute man in the port--except the other. The
average young man thought that this was very hard, and on account of it