firs.

In fulfilment of a promise given to Stanley, with the hope of
stimulating him to more earnest study, Salome one day took a piece of
sewing and her music-book, and set off with her brother for the
sea-shore, where he was sometimes allowed to amuse himself by catching
crabs and shrimps. The route they were compelled to take was very
circuitous, since strangers were now forbidden to stroll through the
grounds attached to "Solitude," which was the nearest point where land
and ocean met. Following a cattle-path that threaded the bare brown
hills and wound through low marsh meadows, Salome at length climbed a
cliff that overhung the narrow strip of beach running along the base
of the promontory, and, while Stanley prepared his net, she applied
herself vigorously to the completion of a cluster of lilies of the
valley which she had begun to embroider the preceding night.

It was a mild, sunny afternoon, late in December, with only a few
flakes of white curd-like cirri drifting slowly before the stiffening
south wind that came singing a song of the tropics over the gently
heaving waste of waters--

"Where the green buds of waves burst into white froth flowers."

Two glimmering sails stood like phantoms on the horizon; and a silent
colony of snowy gulls, perched in conclave on a bit of weed-wreathed
drift floating landward, were the only living things in sight, save
the childish figure on the yellow beach under the bleaching rocks, and
the girlish one seated on the tallest cliff, where a storm-scarred
juniper, bending inland, waved its scanty fringe in the fresh salt
breeze.

No note of human strife entered here, nor hum of noisy business marts;
and the solemn silence, so profound and holy, was broken only by the
soft, mysterious murmur of the immemorial ocean, as its crystal
fingers smote the harp of rosy shells and golden sands.

Clasped in the crescent that curved a mile northward lay the house,
and grove, and grounds of "Solitude," looking sombre in the distance,
as the shadow of surrounding hills fell upon the dense foliage that
overhung its quiet precincts, and toned down the garish red of the
boat-house roof, which lent a brief dash of color to the peaceful
picture. Beyond the last guarding promontory that seemed to have
plunged through the shelving strand to bathe in blue brine and cut off
all passage along its base, a strong well-trained eye might follow the
trend of the coast even to the dim outlines and