say good-bye."

"Can't we have another walk along the beach? Remember, I, too, have no
one to talk to!"

"Oh, anwl, no! I must hurry home and get the tea for the preachers."

"And then back to the meeting on the hillside?"

"No; the meeting is in the chapel to-night."

"But when it is over you will come back along the shore?"

"Indeed, I don't know. Good-bye," she said, as she began her way up
the rugged homeward path.

When Cardo reached home, he found his father sitting at the tea-table.
The old parlour looked gloomy and dark, the bright afternoon sun,
shining through the creepers which obscured the window, threw a green
light over the table and the rigid, pale face of the Vicar.

"You are late Cardo; where have you been?"

"In the long meadow, sir, where I could hear some of the preaching
going on below, and afterwards on the beach; it is a glorious
afternoon. Oh! father, I wish you would come out and breathe the fresh
air; it cannot be good for you to be always in your study poring over
those musty old books."

"My books are not musty, and I like to spend my time according to my