CHAPTER II

The horseman of whom we have spoken in the last chapter rode slowly on
about two hundred yards farther, and there the servant advanced and
opened a gate, by means of which the path they were then upon
communicated with a small road between two high banks leading down to
the sea-side. The moment that the gentleman rode forward through the
gate, his eyes fell upon a figure coming up apparently from the
sea-shore. It was that of a woman, seemingly well advanced in life, and
dressed in the garb of the lower orders: there was nothing particular in
her appearance, except that in her gait and figure she was more decrepit
than from her countenance might have been expected. The tears were
streaming rapidly down her face, however; and though she suddenly paused
on perceiving the stranger, she could not command those tears from
flowing on, though she turned away her head to conceal them.

The stranger slightly pulled in his horse's rein, looked at her again,
and then gazed thoughtfully down the road towards the sea, as if
calculating what the woman could have been doing there, and whether she
could have seen the departure of his two late companions.

The servant who was behind him seemed to read his master's thoughts; for
being close to him shutting the gate, he said in a low tone, "That's the
old woman with whom the young gentleman lodged; for I saw her when the
Colonel went there this morning to fetch him away."

The moment the man had spoken, his master pushed forward his horse
again, and riding up to the woman, accosted her at once.

"Ah, my good woman," he said, "you are grieving after your poor little