t the morrow of Christmas would be
the twenty-seventh day of the moon, and that consequently high water
would be at twenty-one minutes past three, the half-ebb at a quarter
past seven, low water at thirty-three minutes past nine, and half flood
at thirty-nine minutes past twelve. He recalled, in the most trifling
details, the costume of the Highlander who had sold him the bagpipe; his
bonnet with a thistle ornament, his claymore, his close-fitting short
jacket, his philabeg ornamented with a pocket, and his snuff-horn, his
pin set with a Scottish stone, his two girdles, his sash and belts, his
sword, cutlass, dirk, and skene-dhu--his black-sheathed knife, with its
black handle ornamented with two cairngorms--and the bare knees of the
soldier; his socks, gaiters, and buckled shoes. This highly-equipped
figure became a spectre in his imagination, which pursued him with a
sense of feverishness as he sunk into oblivion. When he awoke it was
full daylight, and his first thought was of Deruchette.

The next night he slept more soundly, but he was dreaming again of the
Scottish soldier. In the midst of his sleep he remembered that the
after-Christmas sittings of the Chief Law Court would commence on the
21st of January. He dreamed also about the Reverend Jaquemin Herode. He
thought of Deruchette, and seemed to be in violent anger with her. He
wished he had been a child again to throw stones at her windows. Then he
thought that if he were a child again he should have his mother by his
side, and he began to sob.

Gilliatt had a project at this time of going to pass three months at
Chousey, or at the Miriquiers; but he did not go.

He walked no more along the road to St. Peter's Port.

He had an odd fancy that his name of "Gilliatt" had remained there
traced upon the ground, and that the passers-by stopped to read it.

II

THE UNKNOWN UNFOLDS ITSELF BY DEGREES

On the other hand, Gilliatt had the satisfaction of seeing the Bravees
every day. By some accident he was continually passing that way. His
business seemed always to lead him by the path which passed under the
wall of Deruchette's garden.

One morning, as he was walking along this path, he heard a market-woman
who was returning from the Bravees, say to another: "Mess Lethierry is
fond of sea-kale."

He dug in his garden of the Bu de la Rue a trench for sea-kale. The
sea-kale is a vegetable which has a flavour like asparagus.

The wall of the garden of t