ance, ran to inform her father; who is
working beyond the hill at the back of the dwelling. She will be back
shortly."

A slight sigh escaped from Mr. Clifford, unheard by all save his friend,
who turned to him with a mischievous smile, which the former easily
interpreted as, "I wonder which was right, you or I?"

In the meanwhile, Mrs. Williamson was entreating Mrs. Pierce to take
some rest, "for indeed you look much in need of it," she added, "and I
will have a cup of strong tea ready for you in a few moments, for you
need something to refresh you, I am sure, after being so long on the
salt water."

Her husband seconded Mrs. Williamson's advice.

"You had better go, my dear, and lay down for a little while, and you
will feel vastly better, I assure you. As for me, I must now go back to
the ship, but will return in time to join you in a good cup of tea,
which, from past experience, I know will be excellent,--and I suppose I
shall then see Mr. Williamson and daughter."

"Oh, yes, Sir," was the reply. "They should have been back before this;
but I expect husband was farther off than Ellen imagined, and seeking
for him has detained her."

Gaily waving an adieu, the Captain hurried away, and Mrs. Pierce
following the fisherman's wife into her chamber, Ernest Clifford was
left alone. He seated himself at the open casement in a listless
attitude; for though he would hardly acknowledge it to himself, he could
not help a feeling of disappointment in finding his air castle so
quickly shattered.

The only object of attraction to be seen from the casement was a fine
view of the sea; but Ernest had been too long a sojourner on the wild
waste of waters, not to have become weary of their monotony, and tired
of gazing at what had been so long a familiar object, he turned his
attention to the interior of the room. As he glanced round the
apartment, he could not help admiring the spotless neatness which marked
it, for everything was in the most perfect order, while the few
ornaments and some pretty shells, that the fisherman and Ellen's
betrothed had brought on their return from different voyages, were
tastefully arranged on the mantel-piece and tables, with several books,
which, from the pencilled passages he observed as he opened them, had
evidently been well conned. In one, a small volume of miscellaneous
poems, Ellen's name was inscribed on the fly-leaf, in a graceful Italian
hand, evidently a lady's writing.

"This fish