in place of sweeping to inland farms the scents of seaweed and broken
salt waters, mingled with a suspicion of icebergs. From what was
called the Seaton, or seatown, of Portlossie, a crowd of cottages
occupied entirely by fisherfolk, a solitary figure was walking
westward along this grass at the back of the dune, singing. On his
left hand the ground rose to the high road; on his right was the
dune, interlaced and bound together by the long clasping roots of
the coarse bent, without which its sands would have been but the
sport of every wind that blew. It shut out from him all sight of
the sea, but the moan and rush of the rising tide sounded close
behind it. At his back rose the town of Portlossie, high above the
harbour and the Seaton, with its houses of grey and brown stone,
roofed with blue slates and red tiles. It was no highland town
--scarce one within it could speak the highland tongue, yet down
from its high streets on the fitful air of the morning now floated
intermittently the sound of bagpipes--borne winding from street
to street, and loud blown to wake the sleeping inhabitants and let
them know that it was now six of the clock.

He was a youth of about twenty, with a long, swinging, heavy footed
stride, which took in the ground rapidly--a movement unlike that
of the other men of the place, who always walked slowly, and never
but on dire compulsion ran. He was rather tall, and large limbed.
His dress was like that of a fisherman, consisting of blue serge
trowsers, a shirt striped blue and white, and a Guernsey frock,
which he carried flung across his shoulder. On his head he wore a
round blue bonnet, with a tuft of scarlet in the centre.

His face was more than handsome--with large features, not finely
cut, and a look of mingled nobility and ingenuousness--the latter