the threshold of life, and
looking forward to the happiness which at that age seems almost a
natural heritage.

The sense of freedom grew on her next morning, as she walked once more
upon the marshes, listened to the larks, now in full song, and felt the
touch of the salt wind upon her cheeks. She had found rooms very
easily, and no one had seemed to treat her coming as anything but a
matter of course. One old fisherman of whom she asked questions, told
her many queer stories about the Red Hall and its occupants.

"As restless young men as them two as is there now," he admitted, "Mr.
Cecil and his friend, I never did see. Fust one of them one day goes to
London, back he comes on the next day, and away goes the other. Why
they don't go both together the Lord only knows, but that is so for a
fact, miss, and you can take it from me. Every week of God's year, one
of them goes to London, and directly he comes back the other goes."

"And Mr. Andrew de la Borne?" she asked. "Has he gone back there yet?"

"He have not," the man answered, "but I doubt he'll be back again one
day 'fore long. Sure he need be. They're beginning to talk about the
shuttered windows at the Red Hall."

The girl turned and looked toward the house, bleak and desolate-looking
enough now that the few encircling trees were shorn of their leaves.

"I shouldn't care to live there all the year round," she remarked.

"I've heerd others say the same thing," he answered, "and yet in
Salthouse village we're moderate well satisfied with life. It's them as
have too much," he continued, "who rush about trying to make more. A
simple life and a simple lot is what's best in this world."

"Things were livelier up there," Jeanne remarked, seating herself on
the edge of his boat, "when the smugglers used to bring in their goods."

The old man smiled.

"Why that's so, lady," he admitted. "Lord! When I was a boy I mind some
great doings. One night there was a great fight. I mind it now. Fifteen
of the King's men were lying hidden close to the cove there, and it
looked for all the world as though the boats which were being rowed
ashore must fall right into their hands. They were watching from the
Hall, though, and the Squire's new alarm was set going. It were a cry
like a siren, rising and falling like. The boats heerd it and turned
back, but three of the Squire's men were set on, and a rare fight there
was that night. There was broken heads to be mended, and no mi