the sea on the rocks far below could be plainly heard. Mrs. Davenant was
sitting in a high-backed chair, on one side of the great fireplace, in
which a pile of logs was blazing. Her son had just laid down a book,
which he could no longer see to read, while her daughter-in-law was
industriously knitting. Walter was wandering restlessly between the fire
and the window, looking out at the flying clouds, through which the moon
occasionally struggled.

"Do sit down, Walter," his mother said at last. "You certainly are the
most restless creature I ever saw."

"Not always, mother; but I cannot help wondering about that ship we saw
down the coast, making for the bay. She was about ten miles out, and
seemed to be keeping her course when I saw her last, half an hour ago;
but I can see, by the clouds, that the wind has drawn round more to the
north, and I doubt much whether she will be able to gain the bay."

"In that case, Walter," his father said, "if her captain knows his
business, he will wear round and run down for Waterford.

"I agree with you," he continued, after walking to the window and
watching the clouds, "that a vessel coming from the south will hardly
weather Bray Head, with this wind."

He had scarcely spoken when the door opened, and one of the servants
entered.

"Your honour, a boy has just come up from the village. He says that John
Considine sent him to tell you that a large ship is driving in to shore,
and that he thinks she will strike not far from the village."