windows, one to the south with a wide
view of the bay and the nearer coast, the other to the west where the
open sea displayed her changeable moods. On three sides of this room,
the high walls, from the white stone floor to the time-blackened beams
that bore the ceiling, almost disappeared under the irregular rows of
many thousand of volumes. Two wooden arm-chairs, bespeaking little
aversion to an occasional guest, flanked the hearth.

The hearth is the chief refuge of the lone thinker; this was a cosy
recess, deep cut in the mediaeval stone and mortar; within which, on
chilly days, a generous heap of sea-cast timber and dried turf shot
forth dancing blue flames over a mound of white ash and glowing
cinders; but which, in warmer times, when the casements were unlatched
to let in with spring or summer breeze the cries of circling sea-fowls
and the distant plash of billows, offered shelter to such green plants
as the briny air would favour.

At the far end of the room rose in systematical clusters the pipes of
a small organ, built against the walls where it bevelled off a corner.
And in the middle of the otherwise bare apartment stood a broad and
heavy table, giving support to a miscellaneous array of books, open or
closed, sundry philosophical instruments, and papers in orderly
disorder; some still in their virginal freshness, most, however,
bearing marks of notemaking in various stages.

Here, in short, was the study and general keeping-room of the master
of Scarthey, and here, for the greater part, daily sat Sir Adrian
Landale, placidly reading, writing, or thinking at his table; or at
his organ, lost in soaring melody; or yet, by the fireside, in his
wooden arm-chair musing over the events of that strange world of
thought he had made his own; whilst the aging black retriever with
muzzle stretched between his paws slept his light, lazy sleep, ever
and anon opening an eye of inquiry upon his master when the latter
spoke aloud his thoughts (as solitary men are wont to do), and then
with a deep, comfortable sigh, resuming dog-life dreams.

CHAPTER II

THE LIGHT-KEEPER

He who sits by the fire doth dream,
Doth dream that his heart is warm.
But when he awakes his heart is afraid for the bitter cold.

_Luteplayer's Song._

The year 1814 was eventful in the annals of the political world.
Little, however, of the world's din reached the little northern
island; and what there came of it was no