"whose house that is over there?"

"Beverly Plank's shooting-box; Black Fells," she replied nodding toward
the vast pile of blackish rocks against the sky, upon which sprawled a
heavy stone house infested with chimneys.

"Plank? Oh yes."

He smiled to remember the battering blows rained upon the ramparts of
society by the master of Black Fells.

But the smile faded; and, glancing at him, the girl was surprised to see
the subtle change in his face--the white worn look, then the old
listless apathy which, all at once to her, hinted of something graver
than preoccupation.

"Are we near the sea?" he asked.

"Very near. Only a moment to the top of this hill. . Now look!"

There lay the sea--the same grey-blue crawling void that had ever
fascinated and repelled him--always wrinkled, always in flat monotonous
motion, spreading away, away to the sad world's ends.

"Full of menace--always," he said, unconscious that he had spoken aloud.

"The sea!"

He spoke without turning: "The sea is a relentless thing for a man to
fight. . There are other tides more persistent than the sea, but like