hed some men
putting off a heavy fishing-boat, and she still stood and looked long
after the boat was launched. She would not confess to herself that
she felt lonely and miserable: it was the sight of the sea that was
melancholy. It seemed so different from the sea off Borva, that had
always to her a familiar and friendly look, even when it was raging
and rushing before a south-west wind. Here this sea looked vast and
calm and sad, and the sound of it was not pleasant to her ears, as
was the sound of the waves on the rocks at Borva. She walked on, in a
blind and unthinking fashion, until she had got far up the Parade,
and could see the long line of monotonous white cliff meeting the dull
blue plain of the waves until both disappeared in the horizon.

She returned to the King's road a trifle tired, and sat down on one of
the benches there. The passing of the people would amuse her; and now
the pavement was thronged with a crowd of gayly-dressed folks, and the
centre of the thoroughfare brisk with the constant going and coming of
riders. She saw strange old women, painted, powdered and bewigged in
hideous imitation of youth, pounding up and down the level street, and
she wondered what wild hallucinations possessed the brains of these
poor creatures. She saw troops of beautiful young girls, with flowing
hair, clear eyes and bright complexions, riding by, a goodly company,
under charge of a riding-mistress, and the world seemed to grow
sweeter when they came into view. But while she was vaguely gazing and
wondering and speculating her eyes were suddenly caught by two riders
whose appearance sent a throb to her heart. Frank Lavender rode well,
so did Mrs. Lorraine; and, though they were paying no particular
attention to the crowd of passers-by, they doubtless knew that they
could challenge criticism with an easy confidence. They were laughing
and talking to each other as they went rapidly by: neither of them saw
Sheila. The girl did not look after them. She rose and walked in the
other direction, with a greater pain at her heart than had been there
for many a day.

What was this crowd? Some dozen or so of people were standing round
a small girl, who, accompanied by a man, was playing a violin, and
playing it very well, too. But it was not the music that attracted
Sheila to the child, but partly that there was a look about the timid,
pretty face and the modest and honest eyes that reminded her of little
Ailasa, and partly b