to drown resentment--"

The Captain may surely be pardoned if for the moment even this gentle
speech failed to placate him. He turned in dudgeon amid the grinning
crowd and was in the act of remounting, but missed the stirrup as his
charger reared and backed before the noise of yet another diversion.
No one knows who dipped into the cask and flung the first handful
over unhappy Mr. Smellie. No one knows who led the charge down upon
the boats, or gave the cry to stave in the barrels on board. But in
a trice the preventive men were driven overboard and, as they leapt
into the shallow water, were caught and held and drenched in the
noisome mess; while the Riding Officer, plastered ere he could gain
his saddle, ducked his head and galloped up the beach under a
torrential shower of deliquescent pilchards.

The Dragoons did not interfere.

"Shall it be for Looe, Captain?" challenged Major Hymen, waving his
blade and calling on the Gallants to re-form. And as he challenged,
by the happiest of inspirations the band, catching up their
instruments, crashed out with:

"Oh, the De'il's awa'--
The De'il's awa'--
The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman!"

CHAPTER VIII.

"COME, MY CORINNA, COME!"

Miss Marty drew aside her window curtain to watch the rising moon.
She could not sleep. Knowing that she would not be able to sleep,
she had not undressed.

She gazed out upon the street, dark now and deserted. No light
signalled to her from the attic window behind which Dr. Hansombody so
often sat late over his books and butterfly cases. He had gone with
the others.

She listened. The house was silent save for the muffled snoring of
Scipio in his cupboard-bedroom under the stairs. She raised the
window-sash gently, leaned out upon the soft spring night, and
listened again.

Far down the street, from the purlieus of the Town Quay, her ear
caught a murmur of voices--of voices and happy subdued laughter.
The maidens of Troy were embarking; and to-morrow would be May
morning.

Miss Marty sighed. How long was it since she had observed May
morning and its rites? The morrow, too, if the Vicar and the Major
were right in their calculations, would usher in the Millennium.
But again, what was the Millennium to her? Could it bring back her
youth?

She heard the boats draw near and go by. The houses to the left hid
them from her: but she leaned out, hearkening to the soft plash of
oars, the creak of thol