his housekeeper, a thin, wrinkled negro woman.

Then the smoke curled out of the great stone chimneys once more, the
light streamed from the windows at night, and the fishermen and
sailors rejoiced that at last the old house had found a tenant and no
longer yawned bare and empty. The "White Gull" came more than once
with a cargo for the master of the stone house, who, the skipper told
the Culm folk, "was a mighty rich man, but the down-heartedest chap
he'd ever cast eyes on. Why, man, he just sot lookin' over the rail
the best part o' the way down, with his eyes in the water, and said no
more nor a stone. What ye think? Now lookee here, men, let me give ye
a bit o' advice. Don't ye go to pesterin' him with yer talk and yer
questions; fur he's diff'rent make 'an I be, an' 'twon't do. Let him
alone, an' keep yer own side o' the Rock."

The skipper's word was looked upon with respect by all the fish-folk,
and they heeded his advice. So, in consequence, the owner of the stone
mansion was undisturbed, and lived in the greatest seclusion. He never
came within the limits of the little village, and whenever he was
seen, it was only as pacing slowly along the shore. He passed the
fishermen as they were hanging up their seines in the sun without
heeding them, or acknowledging their respectful bows. The old black
housekeeper came down to the village sometimes after fish or gulls'
eggs, but went her way without satisfying the eager questions with
which the women plied her. So one year passed away, then a second, and
the master of the stone house was still as much a mystery to the poor
fishers as ever. He rarely walked upon the sand, gave them not a look
if ever they chanced to meet, and living, apparently, for no one but
himself, took not the slightest interest in their welfare, cared
naught for wreck or disaster on the shore, and seemed always stern and
sorrowful.

No company ever came down on the "White Gull" to visit this strange
and silent man, and he had no friends, apparently. Skipper Ben
brought stores for him occasionally, and sometimes a letter; but this
last event was a rare one, and the man seemed to have little more
communication with the great world out of which he had come than did
the humble Culm fishermen. With winds and storms, the third year
rolled around, and the master of the old house was still as much of a
recluse as ever; but the Culm people had ceased to regard him with any
interest, and the man le