ned homewards in the rapidly increasing dusk, they saw three
figures on the sand near the rocks, coming in their direction.

"Papa and Mr Donne!" exclaimed Mary. "Now we shall see him!"

"Which do you make out is him?" asked Elizabeth.

"Oh! the tall one, to be sure. Don't you see how papa always turns to
him, as if he was speaking to him and not to the other?"

"Who is the other?" asked Elizabeth.

"Mr Bradshaw said that Mr Farquhar and Mr Hickson would come with
him. But that is not Mr Farquhar, I am sure," said Ruth.

The girls looked at each other, as they always did, when Ruth
mentioned Mr Farquhar's name; but she was perfectly unconscious both
of the look and of the conjectures which gave rise to it.

As soon as the two parties drew near, Mr Bradshaw called out in his
strong voice,

"Well, my dears! we found there was an hour before dinner, so we came
down upon the sands, and here you are."

The tone of his voice assured them that he was in a bland and
indulgent mood, and the two little girls ran towards him. He kissed
them, and shook hands with Ruth; told his companions that these
were the little girls who were tempting him to this extravagance of
purchasing Eagle's Crag; and then, rather doubtfully, and because
he saw that Mr Donne expected it, he introduced "My daughters'
governess, Mrs Denbigh."

It was growing darker every moment, and it was time they should
hasten back to the rocks, which were even now indistinct in the grey
haze. Mr Bradshaw held a hand of each of his daughters, and Ruth
walked alongside, the two strange gentlemen being on the outskirts of
the party.

Mr Bradshaw began to give his little girls some home news. He told
them that Mr Farquhar was ill, and could not accompany them; but
Jemima and their mamma were quite well.

The gentleman nearest to Ruth spoke to her.

"Are you fond of the sea?" asked he. There was no answer, so he
repeated his question in a different form.

"Do you enjoy staying by the seaside? I should rather ask."

The reply was "Yes," rather breathed out in a deep inspiration than
spoken in a sound. The sands heaved and trembled beneath Ruth. The
figures near her vanished into strange nothingness; the sounds of
their voices were as distant sounds in a dream, while the echo of one
voice thrilled through and through. She could have caught at his arm
for support, in the awful dizziness which wrapped her up, body and
soul. That voice! No! if name, and face, a