She did not search for any occult meaning in the lines, nor did they
convey anything special to her; but they remained with her for the
rest of the day, haunting her, in among her other thoughts, and
forcing themselves upon her attention with the irritating persistency
of a catchy tune.

On the cliffs she paused to look about her. It was a desolate scene.
The tide was so far out by this time it looked as if there were more
sand than sea in the bay. The water was the cloudy grey colour of
flint, with white rims where the waves broke on the shore. The sky was
low, level, and dark; where it met the water there was a heavy bank of
cloud, from which an occasional flash of summer lightning, dimmed by
daylight, shot along the horizon. The air was peculiarly clear, so
that distant objects seemed nearer than was natural. The sheltering
headland on the left, which formed the bay, stood out bright white
with a crown of vivid green against the sombre sea and sky; while, on
the right, the old grey pier, which shut in the view in that
direction, and the red-roofed houses of the town crowding down to it,
showed details of design and masonry not generally visible to the
naked eye from where Beth stood. There were neither ships nor boats in
the bay; but a few cobles, with their red-brown sails flapping limp
against their masts, rocked lazily at the harbour-mouth waiting for
the tide to rise and float them in. Beth heard the men on them
shouting an occasional remark to one another, and now and then one of
them would sing an uncouth snatch of song, but the effort was
spiritless, and did not last.

Leaving the harbour behind, Beth walked on towards the headland.
Presently she noticed in front of her the dignified and pathetic
figure of an old man, a Roman Catholic priest, Canon Hunter, who,
sacrificing all worldly ease or chance of advancement, had come to
minister to the neglected fisherfolk on the coast, most of whom were
Roman Catholics. He led the life of a saint amongst them, living in
dire poverty, his congregation being all of the poorest, with the
exception of one lady in the neighbourhood, married to a man whose
vices were too expensive to leave him much to spare for his wife's
charities. She managed, however, to raise enough money for the rent of
the top room in the public hall, which they used as a chapel, and so
kept the flickering flame of the old religion alight in the place; but
it was a severe struggle. It was whispered,