house and halted by its
white-painted railing. Below them the new pillar stood up in full
view, young and defiant. A full tide lapped its base, feeling this
comely and untried adversary as a wrestler shakes hands before
engaging. And from its base the column, after a gentle inward
curve--enough to give it a look of lissomeness and elastic strength--
sprang upright straight and firm to the lantern, ringed with a
gallery and capped with a cupola of copper not yet greened by the
weather; in outline as simple as a flower, in structure to the
understanding eye almost as subtly organised, adapted and pieced into
growth.

"So that is your ambition now?" said Honoria, after gazing long.
She added, "I do not wonder."

"It does not stop there, I'm afraid." There was a pause, as though
her words had thrown him into a brown study.

"Look!" she cried. "There is someone in the lantern--with a light in
his hand. He is lighting up!"

Taffy ran back a pace or two toward the cottage and shouted, waving
his hand. In a moment Humility appeared at the gate and waved in
answer, while the strong light flashed seaward. They listened; but
if she called, the waves at their feet drowned her voice.

They turned and gazed at the light, counting, timing the flashes; two
short flashes with but five seconds between, then darkness for twenty
seconds, and after it a long steady stare.

Abruptly he asked, "Would you care to cross over and see the
lantern?"

"What, in the cradle?"

"I can work it easily. It's not dangerous in the least; a bit
daunting, perhaps."

"But I'm not easily frightened, you know. Yes, I should like it
greatly."

They descended the cliff to the cable. The iron cradle stood ready
as Taffy had left it when he came ashore. She stepped in lightly,
scarcely touching for a second the hand he put out to guide her.

"Better sit low," he advised; and she obeyed, disposing her skirts on
the floor caked with dry mud from the workmen's boots. He followed
her, and launched the cradle over the deep twilight.

A faint breeze--there had been none perceptible on the ridge--played
off the face of the cliffs. The forward swing of the cradle, too,
raised a slight draught of air. Honoria plucked off her hat and veil
and let it fan her temples.

Half-way across, she said, "Isn't it like this--in mid-air over
running water--that the witches take their oaths?"

Taffy ceased pulling on the rope. "The witches? Yes, I rem