lit 
 
 &mm. 
 
 .# 
 
 I 
 
 *msae>JB*& 
 
THE 
 
 GAMMANS POETRY 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 GEORGE H. GAMMANS, II 
 
 Class of 1940 
 
 First Lieutenant Army Air Corps 
 
 Distinguished Service Cross 
 
 Missing in Action January 15, 1943 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY 
 
 -ster. 
 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL H 
 
 00022094957 
 
 This BOOK may be kept out TWO WEEKS 
 ONLY, and is subject to a fine of FIVE 
 CENTS a day thereafter. It is DUE on the 
 DAY indicated below: 
 
u* 
 
 Frontispiece.} "Hurrah, Dave, we've done it.'' {.page 114. 
 
'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 AND HER OWNERS 
 
 A STORY OF ADVENTURE OFF THE SOUTH COAST 
 
 EDITH COWPER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'HIDE AND SEEK,' 'BESSIE,' ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. S. STACEY 
 
 PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE GENERAL 
 LITERATURE COMMITTEE 
 
 LONDON: 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C.J 
 
 43, queen victoria street, e.c. 
 
 Brighton : 129, North Street. 
 
 New York : E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. THE NEW-COMERS 3 
 
 II. THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS . . 12 
 
 III. THE MESHES OF THE NET . . . .26 
 
 IV. ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS .... 36 
 V. ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES .... 48 
 
 VI. MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 6 1 
 
 VII. STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME . . -74 
 
 VIII. THE FLIGHT OF BROWN BIRD AND HER 
 
 MISTRESS 87 
 
 IX. BROWN BIRD FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE . . IOO 
 
 X. SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY . . . . 115 
 
 XI. ESTHER HESITATES 1 28 
 
 XII. 'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' . . . -143 
 
 XIII. STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION . . . 1 58 
 
 XIV. ' I SAW HIM DROWN ' I 7 2 
 
 XV. THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD . . . 1 85 
 
 XVI. ESTHER AWAKES 1 98 
 
 XVII. THE MILLER'S GRIP 211 
 
 XVIII. THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE . .221 
 
 XIX. ESTHER AND TRIXIE PULL UP A GOOSEBERRY 
 
 BUSH 231 
 
 XX. A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING . . . 244 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/brownbirdherowneOOcowp 
 
'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE NEW-COMERS 
 
 |N that part of the south coast where the 
 long rolling waves of bare downs meet the 
 long rolling waves of restless sea coming 
 in from the big ocean, with a harsh front 
 of black cliffs, there is a break in the frown- 
 ing wall, a break not observable from the sea tillyou are 
 close to it, called Durlmouth Cove. 
 
 The formation of this cove is perhaps one of the 
 strangest freaks of nature that exists along that 
 dangerous coast, and is like nothing so much as a 
 downward dig with a giant cheese-scoop, a well in 
 the down, as it were, with a narrow opening in the 
 cliff seaward, flanked on either side by sheer walls of 
 rock. 
 
 The circle of the cove is small, and surrounded by 
 towering heights of bare downs, brown and slippery 
 for the greater part of each year ; the rough beach at 
 the foot shelving steeply to the water, which is of 
 singular clearness and depth. Even a southerly or sou'- 
 westerly gale does not penetrate the cove with any 
 great force. The teeth and claws of the storm-fiend 
 
4 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 tear at the black barrier outside, the long waves race 
 up from the wide sou'-west and dash themselves on its 
 battered foot, hurling spray right up to the little coast- 
 guard " look-out " on the top ; but the cove, hidden 
 behind that repellent wall, remains undisturbed but for 
 restless heavings, and a deep angry answer from the 
 imprisoned waves to the wild brothers outside. 
 
 But the surprises of Durlmouth Cove do not end 
 here. A gash in the downs reveals a narrow winding 
 river, penetrating for a short distance parallel with 
 the sea, and then striking inland for another short 
 distance, dwindling away with an uncertain stream 
 that rambles down a valley between the hills. 
 Nothing could be more unexpected than certain parts 
 of the south coast whose outside bays are only the 
 beginning of revelations in the way of lovely wooded 
 river creeks, and inland bays as peaceful and quiet as 
 lakes of the most sheltered description, and certainly 
 Durlmouth Cove to the full realizes this character. 
 
 It has no prospect of being developed, far from 
 town and rail, and its importance, small as it is, is 
 owing to the fact that it is the only shelter possible 
 in a long stretch of dangerous coast lying between 
 two frowning headlands that stand boldly out to sea, 
 running long spurs of broken rocks far out under the 
 water, like the rams of massive ironclads. Black Rock 
 Bill and the Durl Head, the first to the west and the 
 latter to the east, form the extreme points of this long 
 bare sweep of open coast, and he who is caught 
 between has no chance of life but in Durlmouth 
 Cove. This solitary feature had given the cove a 
 fictitious importance, and it was often crowded with 
 craft of many kinds. This had led to a springing up 
 of trade in a small way, railways being distant and 
 carriage expensive, the sea became a simpler mode of 
 conveyance for corn and coal, and removal of stone 
 from the quarries behind Durl Head. 
 
THE NEW-COMERS 5 
 
 Many years before a man, less sleepy than his 
 neighbours, had built a grey stone mill close to the 
 grey stone bridge road that crossed the little river 
 Durl at the head of the creek, and utilized the river 
 running down to turn his wheel. Trade had grown, 
 and the present owner was a busy man with good 
 business coming and going, and a monopoly of coal 
 and flour in his own hands for many miles round. 
 The horses that drew his wagons were the best kept 
 on the country-side, handsome teams whose bells 
 could be heard on still days winding along the lonely 
 roads over the bleak down as they hauled the heavy 
 sacks of flour and coal away to far-off villages which 
 possessed neither advantage of rail nor sea. 
 
 The miller was a man of all the importance that 
 good investments and a large banking account can 
 give. He had possessions, power, and influence, but 
 he had not love ; certainly he did not seem to miss it, 
 and contented himself with being well served, and, to 
 a certain extent, feared. 
 
 He was a widower of some years standing, as his 
 wife, a nervous invalid, had died of some internal 
 complaint, leaving him without children. The village 
 had pitied Mrs. Emmett during her dreary married 
 life, and discussed her supposed feelings for her 
 husband in many gossips ; no one could say that the 
 miller ill-treated his wife, they would have liked to say 
 so, of course, if there had been a shadow of reason. 
 He took the same care of her as he did of his horses, 
 and did all that was necessary to keep her in repair, 
 as he did his mill ; but, in spite of that, she was a sad 
 woman with a wistful, pinched face, and when she died 
 Joshua Emmett, her husband, placed a handsome 
 stone over her grave, and thought no more about her. 
 He was busy making money, and such small matters 
 as love, affection, kindness, and the happiness of his 
 fellow-creatures seemed to him worth very little con- 
 
6 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 sideration. He was the richest man for many miles 
 round, though that was perhaps no great test, as the 
 farmers who formed the residential population had a 
 hard enough struggle to pay rent and make a living, 
 as a rule, land being rather poor and markets low. 
 
 One very hot morning in July the miller sauntered 
 down to the little rough quay that edged his mill- 
 yard, and served as a landing-place for the goods. 
 He had been away two or three days to the county 
 town ; he looked and felt prosperous (for worldly affairs 
 were going well with him), and younger than his years, 
 for he was a red man, with high colour and few lines 
 in his face. His light-blue eyes were not set deeply, as 
 is so often the case in south-coast faces, they were 
 rather prominent, fair eye-lashes adding to the effect 
 of their being very much on the surface, and very 
 unshaded. He whistled to himself as he looked about, 
 and very few things escaped his eye. That morning 
 there was something new to observe, and the miller 
 saw it at once. "Saunders," he called sharply, and 
 a tall stout man appeared promptly at the door of the 
 mill, covered with flour and looking hot and flustered. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he said, tentatively blinking at the sun 
 glare, and wiping his face with a large coloured 
 handkerchief. 
 
 The miller signed with his hand towards a barge 
 that lay moored in mid-stream. She was a well-built 
 boat, small of her kind, and neatly rigged. Jib, 
 foresail, and sprit were spread to dry, and the main- 
 sail neatly tied up under a canvas cover. All the 
 sails were brown, and though patched in places, 
 strong and sound, while the whole vessel carried the 
 appearance of being well cared for. The miller took 
 in her character at a glance, and also the presence 
 of a small rowing-boat tied to the quay. Saunders, 
 who was head man in the mill, followed his master's 
 glance with an eye of disfavour. 
 
THE NEW-COMERS J 
 
 " Eh ? " said Mr. Emmett briskly. 
 
 " A new lot, sir," said the man, " came in with 
 the tide yesterday sunrise ; they've gone into old 
 Tewkesbury's cottage." 
 
 The miller whistled in an interested manner, any 
 question of property was pleasant to him. " Relations, 
 I suppose," he said ; then, after a thoughtful pause, 
 " I didn't know old Tewkesbury had any relations. 
 He was pretty close all his life, and double locked 
 these last ten years. You know I offered him a good 
 price for the reversion of his cottage." 
 
 " So I understood, sir," said Saunders, who was a 
 bit of a gossip, and pleased to find his master in a 
 communicative mood. 
 
 " He wouldn't sell though," went on Mr. Emmett. 
 " I was a good bit annoyed, for I wanted the cottage, 
 standing in the corner of Big Field as it does, I'd 
 sooner have it in my own hands. However, it didn't 
 much matter, as no doubt these people will be glad 
 enough to sell it." 
 
 Saunders screwed up his lips, and said, " No doubt, 
 sir," but his manner seemed to imply that there was a 
 good deal behind if he choose to speak. 
 
 " What sort of people are they ? " continued the 
 miller, upon whom this suggestion of mystery was not 
 lost. " What is their name ? Is it a large family ? 
 What relation were they to the old man ? I suppose 
 he left them everything ? " 
 
 "Well, sir," began Saunders, quite enjoying the 
 unusual pleasure of being able to tell his master any- 
 thing he did not know already. " The name, so far 
 as I can make out, is Carne." 
 
 The miller raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " Oh, Cornish people," he suggested. 
 
 " That's about it, sir," went on Saunders, with strong 
 disfavour. " Foreigners, that's what they are. I 
 never so much as heard of the name myself. They 
 
8 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 do say in the village that this Carne, Michael Carne 
 his full name so I understand, is sister's son to old 
 Tewkesbury. He quarrelled with all his own people 
 years agone, but there was one sister he held to, she 
 married a man down Cornwall way, and this man's 
 her son. D'you see, sir ? " 
 
 The miller nodded. 
 
 w Is this Carne a young man ? I suppose not, 
 though, old Tewkesbury was getting well into his 
 eighty when he died." 
 
 " As to his age, sir," answered Saunders cautiously, 
 for he was a very accurate man, with narrow views 
 and strong prejudices, three reasons why the miller 
 had kept him so long ; " as to age, sir, I'd say he 
 might be in his forty-five, or again he might be 
 a bit older. You see this Mrs. Carne might have 
 been a deal younger than the old man, like enough 
 she was, as they do say in the village he was one of 
 a long family." 
 
 " Is he a married man ? " asked the miller, lighting 
 his pipe. 
 
 " He was, sir. At least so they seem to think 
 down the village, there being a young woman with 
 him who appears to be his daughter, but seemingly 
 his wife's dead. Anyway, there are only these two, 
 and alike as two peas, you couldn't mistake 'em .or 
 ought else but father and daughter." 
 
 " Oh," said the miller, " I'm glad there's not a long 
 family. I hate a lot of children racketing about the 
 fields and breaking the hedges, that was one advantage 
 of old Tewkesbury. However, it won't matter much 
 what these people are, I shall buy the cottage, and 
 pull it down, it is all to pieces now." 
 
 Saunders listened with interest. His master did 
 not often state his intentions openly. 
 
 "The boat looks well built, and well kept," he went 
 on critically ; " what's her name ? " 
 
THE NEW-COMERS 9 
 
 " A silly name to my thinking," answered the man 
 again with strong disfavour. " They call her The 
 Brotvn Bird" 
 
 " Ah," said the miller, " because of her brown sails, 
 I suppose, and probably she's a good one to go too. 
 I don't see any harm in the name." 
 
 Saunders was silent. After a moment's pause, in 
 which the miller smoked thoughtfully, he said, " They 
 brought their bit of furniture round in her, and were 
 carrying it up to the cottage all yesterday ; old- 
 fashioned sticks, nothing to look at." The miller 
 smiled a little with his eyes half closed, and the fore- 
 man continued, growing a little bolder, " Ellen and 
 Sarah's expected in to-morrow with the corn from 
 Salterne. / don't know what William Mew will say 
 to this yer Brown Bird, as they call her, filling up 
 the channel. And end of the week Reuben Kentfield's 
 bringing up the coal from Rockhampton ; he won't be 
 best pleased to find another boat cutting in to take 
 his trade away ; he was only telling me the other day 
 there was just about enough doing for the three : Ellen 
 and Sarah, The Three Sisters, and Haynes' boat." 
 
 "Ah," said the miller, ignoring his man's con- 
 fidences, "where is the Queen of England?" 
 
 " Down at the mouth," answered Saunders rather 
 sulkily. " Haynes has got her up on the low shore, 
 scraping of her." 
 
 " Will she be ready to take the flour to Rock- 
 hampton to-morrow ? " asked the miller. " They 
 want it very particularly." 
 
 Saunders looked disturbed. " I don't know as they 
 will, sir; young Haynes told me the 'jestys' hadn't 
 come for her bottom ; he was pretty well put out 
 about it, they're expecting it by the carrier to-morrow 
 evening." 
 
 "Well, I can't wait," said the miller dryly, "I 
 promised the Rockhampton people I wouldn't fail 
 
IO 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 them about the flour. The new boat will have to 
 take it, that's all, she looks smart enough." 
 
 And he turned away and sauntered towards his 
 well-kept square stone house, leaving Saunders 
 staring after him with every feeling against the new- 
 comers intensified. 
 
 At dinner-time the miller's man told his wife about 
 the conversation, and received hearty sympathy in 
 his annoyance. 
 
 " Fancy the master behaving so," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Saunders, who was a small, thin, active woman with 
 a long tongue. 
 
 " The master don't care, so long as the flour's paid 
 for," said her husband. k 
 
 " That's where it is, of course, but to my mind it's 
 only penny wise and pound foolish letting in a lot of 
 foreigners ; what do we want having the trade spoilt 
 and the bread taken out of our mouths by strangers." 
 Mrs. Saunders was speaking very figuratively, be it 
 observed, because she and her husband were well-off 
 people, with a good pile of savings and not likely to 
 lose bread by anybody. 
 
 " What's the good of talking," said Saunders dis- 
 consolately. u If the master had objected to them he 
 could have kept them out of it pretty well. But he'll 
 never do that, so long's the boat's a good fast boat 
 and up to time and tide. I've no patience with him. 
 What do we want with new people ? " 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't worry overmuch if I were you," 
 said his wife soothingly, " eat your dinner, and don't 
 put yourself about. There's more ways than one 
 of killing a cat. I, for one, don't believe these 
 Carnes, or whatever they call themselves, will stay 
 long in Durlmouth." 
 
 Her husband looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? Has anybody told you 
 about the master buying Tewkesbury's cottage ? " he 
 
THE NEW-COMERS II 
 
 asked, rather jealous lest any one should know more 
 than he. His wife's interest set his mind at rest on 
 that point ; she listened eagerly while he repeated the 
 miller's remarks. 
 
 " There you are," she said triumphantly ; " didn't I 
 tell you there was more ways than one of killing a cat 
 than drowning of her ? Don't you trouble about 
 these foreigners, they'll soon be out of the place. 
 Everybody's against them. I've been all round this 
 afternoon. There's no one as doesn't mean to give 
 'em the go by — at least, hardly any one. Emma 
 Fearey shut me up. ' What harm have they done 
 you ? ' she says. ' Harm,' I said, ' harm enough, 
 coming poking their noses into Durlmouth village, 
 taking bread out of people's mouths as have lived here 
 since they were born.' ' Oh, you won't starve/ she 
 says, sharp as needles, ' I suppose they've as good a 
 right to live as anybody else ' ; and with that she 
 slammed her door in my face, and that dog barked 
 at me as impudent as a human." 
 
 " Emma Fearey always has that way, standing up 
 for people she knows nothing about," said Saunders 
 resentfully. " I always have said, and I'll always say 
 it again, that when people are foreigners you may 
 be pretty sure there's something against them ; 
 else why don't they stay among their own kinfolk ? " 
 He leaned back in his chair and looked triumphantly 
 at his wife. 
 
 " You never spoke a truer word in your life, 
 Saunders," said she ; at this moment there was a 
 knock at the door. 
 
 Mrs. Saunders went to open it, and discovered a 
 small boy who did odd jobs in the miller's stable and 
 garden. 
 
 "What do you want, my lad ?" she inquired, wiping 
 her arms on her apron, for her hands had been in the 
 washing-up bowl. 
 
12 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Please, 'm, the master says will Mr. Saunders go 
 up to Tewkesbury's cottage as soon as he can after 
 dinner and find out if they'll take the flour to Rock- 
 hampton to-morrow tide. The master says be sure 
 and find out, as he means to get it away." 
 
 The boy ran off, hardly waiting for the murmured 
 assent, Mrs. Saunders shut the door and sat down on 
 the edge of a chair. 
 
 " I call it too bad," she exclaimed, staring at her 
 husband. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 
 
 UT in spite of the resentment of the miller's 
 man, the miller's orders had to be obeyed, 
 and quickly too. Saunders knew this 
 very well, and therefore a few minutes only 
 elapsed before he started on his mission, 
 leaving his wife standing at the open door talking 
 indignantly to her next-door neighbour over the low 
 fuchsia hedge that divided the two little paths of 
 uneven flag-stone. 
 
 " I really don't know what my husband will say," 
 said Mrs. Kentfield, who was a tall heavy woman of 
 slow comprehension, and not ill-natured unless her 
 own interests were assailed, " I really do not know. 
 It's bad enough already to get an honest living for a 
 long family like ours, even when Kentfield's in full 
 work, and if he's got to stand back out of his turn to 
 let this new boat come in, I really don't know what he 
 will say." 
 
 Mrs. Saunders was full of ready sympathy, and both 
 the women discussed the new-comers without taking 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 1 3 
 
 into consideration either justice or charity, so that they 
 succeeded very quickly in making themselves more 
 angry than when they began talking, a very usual 
 result of such conversation. 
 
 Meanwhile Saunders proceeded heavily up the sunny 
 road that led away from the creek along the dip that 
 lay between the up sweep of the downs inland, and the 
 steep rough slope that led up to the cliff-top seawards. 
 There was no regular village " street." The cottages 
 faced all ways, seldom more than two together, and 
 had the appearance of settling in corners that they 
 expected would be out of the wind. The ground on 
 either side of the road was so irregular that some were 
 six or eight feet above the common level, while some 
 again nestled in hollows. The soil was very rocky; 
 everywhere rough steps led up or down to little gates 
 in the boundary hedges of fuchsia and myrtle, while 
 the gardens bloomed where they could — some of them 
 mere potato-patches on the steep slope, while others 
 were cultivated in old cuttings that looked liked dis- 
 used quarries, and profited so well by the shelter and 
 sunshine that they blazed with colours of old-fashioned 
 flowers, as well as vegetables. 
 
 Old Tewkesbury's cottage stood alone, some little 
 distance along the road. It stood at a corner just 
 where the road turned sharply inland round the end 
 of the long slope of down that Mr. Emmett had called 
 the " big field," and it was built right against the steep 
 slope ; a little uneven building with a thatched roof, in 
 which were two little windows looking like heavy eyes, 
 squeezed against, almost into, the great wave of hillside 
 that swept up skywards immediately behind it. The 
 garden, which had been its late owner's one joy and 
 employment, was productive and pretty, the scarlet 
 runners making a brave patch of colour against the 
 hillside, and the yellow " marrows " peeping out of their 
 rough dark-green backgrounds in their bed cut out of 
 
14 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 the slope. The miller's man did not admire the 
 beauty of the scene. He looked at the roses and 
 jessamine climbing over the untidy thatch, and the 
 small uneven windows peeping out through the little 
 vine nailed carefully up the house-front. 
 
 " The master'll make a clean sweep of the whole 
 thing," he thought to himself sourly, finding great 
 comfort in the thought too. " Dig it in, and plant 
 a potato-patch at this corner, that's what he'll do, 
 and a good thing too," then with some curiosity 
 mingled with his ill-feeling he opened the small 
 rickety gate, and tramped up the flagged path 
 between the little box borders with the scent of many 
 flowers heavy in his nostrils. 
 
 The door stood open, the front-room was tidy in 
 spite of the recent in-coming, and the sound of a sing- 
 ing voice came from the wash-house at the back. 
 The voice was young, fresh and happy, but the song 
 did not appeal to the miller's man, who only wondered 
 if his knock would be heard as he rapped a second 
 time on the open door. 
 
 The song ceased, and was succeeded by sounds as 
 though plates were being put away and water pumped 
 for washing. Then the further door opened and a 
 tall girl came out, and crossed the front-room with an 
 easy step and stood before him. 
 
 Saunders looked at her, and a slight sense of shy- 
 ness overcame him for a moment ; or rather hardly 
 shyness, it was more a feeling of discomfort, for the 
 girl looked at him with such a sincere and friendly ex- 
 pression that uneasiness kept him silent for a moment. 
 
 " Do you want to speak to father ? " she said, and 
 Saunders perceived a slight accent in her speech that 
 was strange to him. " He went out after dinner, 
 and I don't rightly know where he is this moment' ' 
 
 " I'd a message for him from the master," said 
 Saunders, finding his tongue. 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 1 5 
 
 " Sit you down a minute, mister, while I go and 
 look where he's got to," said the girl, advancing a 
 chair and smiling. 
 
 The miller's man did not smile in reply ; he was 
 recovering from his surprise, and resuming his old 
 armour of antagonism. 
 
 " I can't wait," he answered ungraciously, avoiding 
 the direct glance of the beautiful dark eyes, " you can 
 tell him, I suppose ? The miller, Mr. Emmett, wants 
 to know if he can take a load of sacks of ground flour 
 round to Rockhampton to-morrow tide." 
 
 " Oh yes, and glad, I expect," said the girl, with- 
 out showing she noticed her visitor's ungracious 
 manner. " We're pretty straight now," and she looked 
 round the little room. 
 
 " Oh well, that's all then," and the miller's man 
 turned away and walked off down the little path with- 
 out even a good-morning. 
 
 Esther Carne stood still at the door looking after 
 him, for a minute her black eyebrows drew together, 
 and a shadow of anger passed like a cloud across her 
 face, then it cleared, and she laughed a little. " If 
 thafs the manners of the country-side, I can't say 
 much for them," she said. Then she stood looking out 
 at the garden and the sunny road, singing, or rather 
 humming softly to herself with a sense of peace and 
 contentment in the silent beauty of the downs and 
 waste of bracken-covered cliff. 
 
 Esther was a woman of quick changes, the Celtic 
 blood in her veins moved her sometimes to deep 
 melancholy, and sometimes to the joyous gaiety of a 
 child. Tender-hearted and lovable, she was capable 
 of fierce anger when roused to indignation. Her dark- 
 brown eyes, almost black in the shadow of heavy lashes, 
 would be soft and almost pathetic one moment, half 
 closed and full of dreaming fancies that made all the 
 lines of her face fall into sadness, and within a minute 
 
1 6 ( THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 perhaps they would be wide open, flashing sparks, it 
 almost seemed, and full of many-coloured brightness 
 and compelling force. Her hair Jseemed to match 
 them well, being of deepest dusky brown, in which 
 appeared at times shades of red and bronze ; it was curly 
 rough hair, showing great strength of constitution in its 
 owner, and of great length and thickness. Everything 
 about Esther Carne seemed to denote strength of 
 mind and body. Her height and freedom of move- 
 ment, her quick strong hands and small muscular 
 wrists, her clear pale skin, tanned but not burned, 
 and perhaps most of all her strong white teeth, which 
 she showed more than people ordinarily do, as hers 
 was a very mobile mouth, seldom set, constantly 
 varying with her moods, and full of expression and 
 character. 
 
 " What does it matter," said Esther half aloud ; she 
 ^ad a habit of speaking to herself, being often alone. 
 What does it matter if people are grumpy, I don't 
 Suppose Durlmouth manners are on his pattern." She 
 laughed again, then her face changed again and she 
 waved her hand vigorously towards a figure coming 
 slowly into view, and hastened down the flag path to 
 the little gate. 
 
 "Father," she called excitedly, as the figure drew 
 near, " did you meet him ? " 
 
 Michael Carne nodded. Esther laughed, and went 
 on gaily as she held back the little gate for her father's 
 entrance. 
 
 11 He was a queer sort of man, hadn't a word to say, 
 just, 'Would you take some flour round to Rock- 
 hampton for the miller,' and before I could speak 
 almost ' all right,' and off he went, looking at me as 
 though — well, / don't know, quite savage? 
 
 Her father let her talk as they walked slowly up 
 the path. There was an expression of gloom and 
 worry on his face, evidently habitual, but intensified by 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 1 7 
 
 some recent annoyance. He was an embittered like- 
 ness of Esther. The same eyes but shadowed with 
 gloom, the same colouring without the brilliant 
 changes, the same mouth but settled in lines of hard- 
 ness. He was thin, and grey beyond his years, but 
 evidently a powerful man of good constitution and 
 temperate life. Esther noticed the silence quickly, 
 as she noticed everything. 
 
 " What did he say to you, then ? " she asked. 
 
 " The same," answered Carne, standing a moment 
 at the low doorway to look round, as Esther had done, 
 at the peaceful beauty of the scene. 
 
 "And what did you say ? " pursued Esther, who was 
 not afraid of her father's depressing manner, and 
 accustomed as a rule to take his pessimistic view of 
 things lightly. 
 
 Carne did not reply to her questioning at once, he 
 appeared to be considering. 
 
 " And what did you say ? " persisted Esther, passing 
 her arm through his coaxingly. " You'll go, father ; 
 you'll take Brown Bird to Rockhampton, won't you, 
 and show 'em all how a boat can sail. I looked at 
 the other boats about ; they don't seem up to 
 much." 
 
 " The two barges that do most of Mr. Emmett's 
 work are out," said Carne, " I dare say they're better 
 boats than ours." 
 
 " Don't believe it," said Esther decisively. For the 
 first time a smile stole round her father's lips and 
 shone in his sad eyes. 
 
 Esther's belief in the beauty of Brown Bird was an 
 old joke between them. 
 
 " There's a barge up on the beach near the 
 entrance," went on the girl, " she's called Queen of 
 England^ some men were scraping her. They stared 
 at me when I went to look." 
 
 Carne nodded. " That's where it is, she can't be 
 
 B 
 
1 8 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 ready, and the others are out, so I've got the job, they 
 wouldn't have given it to me unless." 
 
 Esther raised her eyebrows with a little amused 
 glance at her father. 
 
 " Oh, come now, dad, we've come here to live and to 
 work, 'tisn't much use looking at things in a down- 
 hearted way." 
 
 "To live," echoed Carne dryly, ignoring the last 
 part of her remark, " if they'll let us." 
 
 " Let us ! " exclaimed Esther, " why not ? What's 
 in your mind, dad ? Why shouldn't they let us live, 
 we haven't done them any harm ? " 
 
 " Some people don't wait for that before they let 
 fly at a fellow-creature," said Carne bitterly. " Done ! 
 that's about it, what have we done ? but these folk 
 down here are all set against us." 
 
 " Nonsense," exclaimed Esther rather sharply ; 
 " now don't you begin with fancies, dad. That's the 
 worst of you, always crossing the bridge before we get 
 to it ! What is the use of making up your mind that 
 Durlmouth folk want to be our enemies. People 
 mostly find what they look for ; and if you go about 
 expecting unfriendly ways you'll like enough meet 
 them. We've only been in the place two days, 
 nobody has interfered with us, it's a lovely place to 
 live in, and we've nothing to regret, and everything to 
 be glad about ; now do cheer up and look to the bright 
 side ; we've left all the hard life and hard days behind 
 us ; we've got a little home of our own, with the 
 prettiest garden in the world, and for all we know, 
 plenty of kind neighbours. What is the use of look- 
 ing for trouble ? I wish you wouldn't, father." 
 
 " It comes quick enough without looking for it, my 
 girl," said Carne. " But there ; let's say no more. 
 You'll find out fast enough what I mean." 
 
 Esther put her hand over his mouth, and having 
 effectually stopped further speech, walked him off 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 19 
 
 round the garden at the back, where the slope climbed 
 from the very wall of the cottage, and little plots were 
 cut out of its side, and planted carefully with all sorts 
 of flowers and vegetables. 
 
 " Old Uncle Tewkesbury made the most of his 
 garden, dad, didn't he. Look at the little rockery at 
 the back where the wall of the clifT comes round the 
 potato-bed ; why, he made the most of everything." 
 
 "Nothing else to do, I suppose," said her father. 
 But he looked with pleasure at the luxuriant growth 
 of sweet-peas and climbing nasturtium, the laden 
 gooseberry and currant bushes, and all the evidences 
 of care and toil in his little domain. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful, dad," said Esther happily. 
 "We ought to have no sorrows here. We've got 
 everything we want." 
 
 " It looks fair enough, my girl," said Carne. 
 " Pretty enough and easy enough on the outside ; 
 but you never know, and as far as I can see there'll 
 be enough trouble " 
 
 " Oh / " exclaimed Esther ; her tone was a laughing 
 one, but her eyes were sad. " Oh, please don't, dad ; 
 now let's go in and have tea, and I want to ask you 
 about something very particular." 
 
 Esther's "something" was neither more nor less than 
 a request that her father should buy some pieces of 
 wall-paper at Rockhampton, and paper the front-room 
 and two little bedrooms for her. 
 
 Carne shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh, but, dad, it won't cost much," said the girl 
 eagerly. "A pail of whitewash for the ceilings and the 
 kitchen, and you can get ever such a pretty paper for 
 a shilling the piece, or less, and see how small the 
 rooms are. I've set my heart on having it all pretty 
 inside; look at it now, Uncle Tewkesbury never 
 touched it all the years he lived here ; we must do it." 
 
 " I don't know where the money's to come from/' 
 
20 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 said her father doubtfully. " I'd like to please you, 
 my girl, but you know coming up has cost us pretty 
 near every penny ; there was little enough after clear- 
 ing up at home. I owe the lawyer something, worse 
 luck ; and Uncle Tewkesbury left us no money, you 
 know, nothing but the house and garden and what 
 was in them." 
 
 " I wish he'd left us a little money," said Esther 
 rather sadly, " a very little, just enough to put things 
 straight ; " then, remembering that she was breaking 
 her rules for looking at things cheerfully, she stopped 
 herself quickly. " Seems I'm talking nonsense," she 
 went on laughingly, after a moment's pause, " ' much 
 wants more,' the proverb says ; it's curious how easily 
 one gets into the way of wanting a little more than 
 you've got, whatever it is. Well, I won't say anything 
 about it, father, if we can't do it we can't ; let's be 
 thankful we've got the pretty cottage and garden and 
 health to enjoy them." 
 
 Carne sighed. The lines of his face settling into 
 the habitual gloom that rested like a cloud on his soul. 
 
 ° Seems hard I'm never allowed to give you what 
 you most want, my girl," he said, after a pause, " and 
 you the only thing I've cared for since your poor 
 mother was taken. But that's always so with me ; 
 the black luck that's followed me all through." 
 
 Esther put her fingers in her ears. 
 
 " Ah, you may shut out the hearing of it all," said 
 Carne, with increased bitterness, " but it won't take 
 away the truth. There are some people who would be 
 all the better for a little good fortune ; they'd grow 
 like flowers in sunshine, but they never get it — never 
 get a bit of rest from worry and strain ; never get a 
 week's peace ; never get exactly what they most 
 want, if they do get something approaching to it, 
 why something else comes in and ruins the pleasure 
 of it. I've heard a good deal time and again of the 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 21 
 
 goodness and mercies of God, but I can't say I've 
 ever seen much of it." 
 
 "Well," exclaimed a sharp voice, suddenly inter- 
 rupting, " I don't wish to be rude and go beyond 
 what's neighbourly, but I can't stand here and not 
 speak. That sort of talk is all nonsense." 
 
 Michael Carne and his daughter had not noticed the 
 entrance, or rather the advent, of a third person, for 
 they were talking earnestly. They both started and 
 looked round hastily, to discover a very small woman 
 standing in the doorway, regarding them with 
 indignation. She was an odd-looking woman too. 
 Of any age between fifty and sixty, with sharp dried- 
 up features, bright black eyes, and nearly white hair, 
 which was drawn to the top of her head in a very 
 small knot and covered with a dilapidated felt man's 
 hat, of the kind commonly called a " biiiy-cock." The 
 rest of her dress was neat though shabby, and covered 
 with a big apron. Sitting by her side on the door- 
 step was an old black-and-white sheep-dog, with one 
 eye and a tuft for a tail, toothless, and stiff of limb. 
 This curious pair returned the gaze of Esther and her 
 father, unconcerned. 
 
 "By the look of you," she went on cheerfully, 
 " I've lived longer in the world than either, and so I 
 may be allowed to speak. There'll be no good come 
 of doubting the Almighty, and Trixie here knows it 
 as well as I do. When you think He's forgotten you 
 is perhaps the very time He's set on you most. I've 
 had some pretty sore times myself, seeing I'm a coast- 
 guard's daughter, and a pilot's widow, both of them 
 drowned off the Durl Head. I've never had a child 
 but Trixie here ; and most of them belonging to me 
 are at the bottom of the sea ; but I never found it 
 eased me to blame the Almighty ; He's not to say 
 always understandable, but that's no fault of His, 
 seeing the best of us haven't much wits to boast of, as 
 
22 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 any one can see by the silly mistakes we make when- 
 ever we take to trusting in our own judgment." 
 
 Here she paused for breath, as she had been speak- 
 ing rapidly, and caught Esther's eyes watching her full 
 of laughter. 
 
 " Won't you come in and sit down ? " said the girl. 
 
 " Well, my dear, I'll not refuse," answered the little 
 woman cheerfully, taking the nearest chair by the 
 door and looking curiously round the room, as she sat 
 with her small hands clasped on her knees. " As I 
 was saying, Trixie's not young, and I'm not young ; 
 and rest for old bones never comes amiss. Well, and 
 what do you think of Durlmouth ? " 
 
 " Oh, we think it is a very pretty place," said Esther, 
 with enthusiasm. "You see, down Cornwall way it's 
 more bleak than it is here — at least where we came 
 from it is. This creek's so pretty and sheltered ; you 
 seem to be out of the way of the wind too." 
 
 " Out of the way of the north wind," put in her 
 father quietly. He had been regarding the visitor 
 with a thoughtful air, and now lighted his pipe as 
 he spoke. 
 
 The little woman looked at him with her bright 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well," she said, " north and east we make little 
 account of here ; even the west we don't feel till 
 we get outside. The south wind stirs us up above 
 a bit ; but there, south wind is mostly soft as silk, 
 so we've a lot to be thankful for in that, eh, Mr. 
 Carne ? " 
 
 Michael Carne nodded without reply. Esther said 
 amicably, with a sense of warding off discussion — 
 
 " What a nice dog you've got, Mrs. " she 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey," said the little woman, supplying 
 the name with brisk decision. "Emma Fearey, 
 widow of George Fearey, pilot, and daughter of 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 23 
 
 Stephen Weld, as old a Durlmouth name as you'll 
 find. By the same token there are few enough of 
 the Weld family left now. Stephen Weld, my eldest 
 brother's only son, is the last of the name down here. 
 Sailors, coastguards, and pilots they've been for 
 many generations, and the sea's had most of them. 
 I'm a lonely old woman, my dear, but not an un- 
 thankful one." 
 
 Esther got up from her chair and came forward 
 to stroke the dog with a certain shy desire to show 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Isn't he blind ? " she asked, as the dog raised his 
 grey old face. " Poor old dog." 
 
 " He's blind of one eye," remarked his mistress 
 cheerfully, " you can't expect all your faculties when 
 you get on in life ; but there, bless you, he sees so 
 much with the other, that it don't make no manner 
 of difference. You'd have to be pretty sharp to 
 escape Trixie's eye ; wouldn't they, my pretty ? " 
 
 The old dog agitated his stump of a tail, and 
 looking into his mistress' face gave a short sharp 
 bark. 
 
 " There," said Mrs. Fearey proudly, " you hear 
 him. He'll talk to you by the hour, as wise as a 
 human creature." 
 
 " He's lost his teeth," exclaimed Esther pityingly. 
 
 "Well, my dear, he can do well enough without 
 them. I haven't got any to boast of myself, but it's 
 easy enough to manage without. Never a bit of 
 dinner does my Trixie get that isn't ready cooked 
 and minced. I was seventeen years cook in high 
 families before I ever married Fearey, and I can 
 always manage so that Trixie shall have a meal that 
 will be no trouble to him, teeth or no teeth." 
 
 " Trixie is a lucky person to have such a kind 
 mistress," said Esther warmly. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey's sharp face softened, and the old dog 
 
24 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 laid his chin on her knee, returning her look with 
 absorbed devotion. 
 
 " Oh, my dear/' she said, laying her hand on the 
 grizzled head. " It's wonderful how a bit of love and 
 kindness smooths the rough paths for us poor human 
 creatures. The Bible says so, and the Bible can't go 
 wrong; so just you keep to the words you find there 
 while you're young, and then when you're as old as 
 me and Trixie you won't feel bitter, even if all you 
 love have gone on before. Love and kindness is like 
 sunshine, always does some one good." 
 
 "There doesn't seem much love and kindness 
 towards new-comers in Durlmouth folk," said Carne 
 dryly, as he rose and came to the door to knock the 
 ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 " Ah," said Mrs. Fearey, and there was inquiry in 
 the exclamation. 
 
 " Father thinks people are not inclined to be 
 friendly to us, Mrs. Fearey," explained Esther 
 reddening, "but I tell him it's all fancy, they don't 
 know us yet." 
 
 The pilot's widow screwed up her mouth reflectively. 
 There was a pause. Then she said — 
 
 " And supposing everybody wasn't friendly to begin 
 with ; well, it won't hurt you, Mr. Carne, or your 
 daughter. We must take things as we find them in 
 this world, the rough with the smooth. Laugh and 
 take no notice. Not that I'm saying for a moment 
 people are not feeling friendly towards you ; but it's 
 a terrible pity to be on the look-out for slights." 
 
 " IV . not on the look-out for slights," said Carne 
 doggedly, " but I'm not one to go running after 
 people. Neither me nor my daughter mean to be 
 unfriendly ; but I'm too proud a man to make up to 
 those who don't want me." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey rose from her chair. 
 
 " Well," she said cheerfully, " idle gossip won't 
 
a, 
 
» 
 
 " * Tl 
 
 b 1 
 
 ~ % -hl 
 
 !# 
 
 H^l^ 
 
 J -c" 
 
 And as to pride," said Mrs. Fearey. [/>«§"« 25. 
 
THE NEW-COMERS HAVE TWO VISITORS 25 
 
 hoe up potatoes, and Trixie can't abear to see his 
 mother lazy, especially near supper-time, so I'll say 
 good-night to you, Mr. Carne." 
 
 " Good-night, ma'am," said Michael Carne, smiling 
 down at the little upright figure. " It was very kind 
 of you to come in and see us ; we shall always be 
 glad of a visit." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Fearey briskly ; thinking 
 what a pity it was that this dark sad-faced man did 
 not smile more often. "I hope your daughter will 
 come and see me ; a bit farther up the road, standing 
 back on the cliff-side, she can't miss it. Two cottages 
 together, and the one with the best garden is mine." 
 She laughed and walked off down the path, the old 
 dog keeping up with her stiffly, by reason of rheuma- 
 tism and age. Esther and her father stood in the 
 doorway watching the brisk little figure with its 
 strange head-gear, and were just about to make a 
 remark to each other, when Mrs. Fearey turned and 
 came back with a quick step, Trixie keeping pace 
 with difficulty. 
 
 " And as to pride" said Mrs. Fearey, suddenly 
 stopping in front of Carne and looking up at him 
 with her head on one side, " as to pride, Mr. Carne, 
 you'll find it's poor comfort to live and die upon. 
 It's little enough we poor human creatures can find 
 to be proud over, look where we will." Then, before 
 Esther or her father could reply she trotted off again, 
 chattering all the time to Trixie, and disappeared 
 through the gate. 
 
26 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MESHES OF THE NET 
 
 T the fall of dusk the day following, just 
 when the high tide was at the turn, Brown 
 Bird went out with her cargo of ground 
 corn. 
 
 The miller had been " set," as his man 
 said, on getting the flour away, and had put on all 
 hands to load, and he stood on the quay, well pleased 
 to have accomplished his object, watching the warm 
 brown sails skim sleepily away down the creek ; 
 appearing and disappearing as the Brown Bird 
 rounded the curves of the inlet on her outward course. 
 Outside the strong tide was running westward, 
 having turned some three hours before ; but it was 
 not possible to take advantage of that, because a 
 heavily-laden barge had to wait up at the quay till 
 there was water enough to make her departure safe. 
 Inside the fitful summer breeze made the use of 
 the long sweeps necessary for punting out ; but once 
 out of the rock-bound shelter a steady easterly breeze 
 in the channel gave every promise of a quick voyage. 
 "A very good piece of work," said Mr. Emmett, 
 rubbing his hands. " This fellow Carne is a smart 
 man, he knows how to handle a boat, and he doesn't 
 talk. You fellows are asleep half your time," and he 
 walked away, leaving sullen looks and resentment 
 behind him among those who could not deny that 
 there was some truth in his strictures. 
 
 Durimouth workers liked to take their time. The 
 miller was a man of restless energy ; hitherto they 
 had held matters a good deal in their own hands, but 
 here was an interloper, who had shown an energy and 
 
THE MESHES OF THE NET 2J 
 
 briskness that surpassed all their ideas of what was 
 reasonable, and actually satisfied the miller. 
 
 Mr. Emmett paused as a sudden thought struck 
 him. 
 
 " Wasn't there some one else on board besides Carne 
 and young Occomore ? " he inquired of Saunders, who 
 was turning into the mill with lagging feet. 
 
 " Yes, sir, the girl," answered Saunders, divided 
 between relief that his master was satisfied, and 
 annoyance that the work was better done than usual. 
 
 " The daughter, oh," said Mr. Emmett ; " what does 
 she go for, doesn't she like to be left alone ? " and he 
 laughed at his own little joke, being in a good humour 
 with all the world. " I thought she was big enough 
 to take care of herself." 
 
 The miller's man laughed rather sourly. 
 
 u You may well say ' big enough,' sir, as my missus 
 said to me yesterday, she might as well be a grown 
 man for size. Oh, she doesn't want to be taken care 
 of;" this was spoken with scorn, as though it was in 
 some way a slur upon Esther's character; "she does a 
 man's work, so they say, and goes with Carne to save 
 a hand." 
 
 " Wise man," said the miller ; " if he pays fewer 
 hands he puts the more into his own pocket ; " and 
 walked away, leaving Saunders struggling with his 
 smouldering indignation at the persistent refusal of 
 his master to see anything objectionable in the new- 
 comers. 
 
 Some two or three hours later the Ellen a?id 
 Sarah came in with her load of corn from Salterne, 
 and was greeted by information that turned her 
 owners into a little knot of grumblers, who met with 
 far rr ~re sympathy than the occasion required. 
 
 Meanwhile the Brown Bird with her load was 
 cutting the dark water at a fine pace, with the moon 
 rising, a fair wind, and on the rush of the strong out- 
 
28 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 going tide. Esther sat on the deck and sang to her- 
 self as she steered on a point fixed by her father, while 
 he brought the deck to that state of precision which 
 he and Esther considered correct. Brown Bird 
 never presented the untidy appearance of some 
 coasting barges ; what hands could do, was done ; 
 clean decks, neatly-coiled ropes, and polished brass, 
 where brass appeared, made her superior to her 
 companions, and a continual joy and pride to her 
 owners. Esther was accustomed to voyages in all 
 weathers, and under all conditions, she had grown up 
 on the sea and understood winds and tides ; it was 
 true that she more than saved her father a hand, 
 because her intelligence was greatly superior to that 
 of the ordinary barge hand, and her enthusiasm 
 even greater than her strength, though that was 
 considerable. 
 
 The young hand they had taken with them was a 
 strong lad of sixteen, grandson of old Occomore, the 
 cleverest pilot for many miles east and west. He lived 
 in Durlmouth, and belonged to a Salterne boat, and 
 young Occomore lived with him, the last of the family, 
 working on the barges, and hoping some day to be as 
 well known a pilot as his grandfather, when he should 
 have passed the necessary examinations. The village 
 prejudice against the Carnes had hardly affected him, 
 while his admiration for Esther's boat knowledge and 
 the beauty of the new barge had made him a welcome 
 volunteer for service on board. 
 
 When Michael Carne had cleared the gear to his 
 satisfaction, and made the boat ship-shape, he came 
 and sat down near his daughter, watching the course 
 she was steering with an eye of approval. 
 
 " We are making a splendid run of it, father," said 
 Esther joyfully. 
 
 " Yes, if the wind holds ; but we've got to reckon 
 with the flowing tide before long," said Carne, as he 
 
THE MESHES OF THE NET 29 
 
 lighted his pipe and sheltered the bowl from the 
 wind. 
 
 "We shall get round the Black Rock with this 
 tide," answered the girl confidently, " and after that 
 it won't so much matter, besides the wind will 
 hold." 
 
 Carne looked at the sky, the travelling moon, and 
 the steady hull of the barge as she swept on her 
 course, ploughing through the long roll of the black 
 sea, and throwing a line of silver from her sharp 
 bows as the phosphorous glittered in the foam she 
 scattered. 
 
 There was silence as both father and daughter 
 enjoyed the peace and beauty of the scene. Presently 
 Carne said, thoughtfully — 
 
 " I've been thinking a good bit about what you 
 asked me ; about the house, I mean." 
 
 " Oh don't, dad," exclaimed Esther anxiously, 
 " what can it matter ? Don't you think about it again, 
 it was silly of me to trouble you. The house will do 
 nicely ; why I haven't half cleaned it yet." 
 
 " Oh, I know, I know, my girl. You're as good as 
 gold," said her father affectionately. " But I'd like to 
 see it nice, just as well as you would ; and it isn't 
 only the paper. Something must be done to the 
 roof, the water comes through. The doors want a 
 bit of paint, and the pump's broken. Now I've been 
 thinking as I'm going to the lawyer at Rockhampton, 
 whether I couldn't get him to lend me a bit of money 
 on the house. Say it's worth a hundred pounds ; I 
 dare say with the land it might be a little more. Now 
 supposing I get him to let me have twenty pounds 
 on it ; we could pay it off monthly without any 
 difficulty as long as I got good work." 
 
 There was a pause ; then Esther, whose strong 
 common-sense saw trouble ahead in this idea, said 
 with hesitation — 
 
30 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " But hadn't we better perhaps wait for a year and 
 save up the money to do the repairs ? " 
 
 "How can we wait a year when the ceilings may 
 fall in with the damp ? " said Carne irritably. It was 
 characteristic of the man that, in spite of his habitually 
 gloomy view of life, he would often insist obstinately 
 on an unwise course, and then, if it proved a failure, 
 rail against the ill-luck that dogged his life. 
 
 Esther was torn between her desire to have the 
 work done, which would give her all she wished, and 
 her fears of the hitherto unknown weight of a 
 mortgage. 
 
 " There would be interest, father/' she said nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 "Yes, but that isn't much on twenty pounds," 
 replied Carne. " Say ten per cent. ; they couldn't 
 ask you more than that. Well, that's not much, and 
 supposing we paid off one pound a month of the 
 principal, why we should soon get rid of it." 
 
 Esther said nothing. 
 
 "Perhaps I could get less, half even," said her 
 father, seeing her want of enthusiasm. 
 
 " I shouldn't mind that," said the girl eagerly, " I 
 believe we could get it all done for ten pounds, and 
 that really wouldn't be much. I believe I could make 
 that in a year with bees, father, if you'll get me two 
 hives, and let me start keeping them." 
 
 " Ah, well then, we'll find out what we can do when 
 we get to Rockhampton," said Carne, pleased with his 
 scheme ; " we can bring the hives back, in any case ; 
 that's a good idea of yours, the bees ought to do well 
 in the corner under the cliff behind the house." 
 
 There the conversation ended for the time, for the 
 steering was becoming a matter that required un- 
 divided attention, as the towering heights of the 
 Black Rock Bill loomed out of the shadows, and 
 the pitching of Brown Bird gave evidence that she 
 
THE MESHES OF THE NET 3 1 
 
 already felt the strength of the Black Rock race 
 under her keel. 
 
 Michael Carne did not take his daughter with him 
 to the lawyers' offices in the High Street. She 
 waited on board to superintend the unloading of the 
 flour, capable as a man of business and energy. The 
 large firm supplied by the miller of Durlmouth sent 
 down vans and men, and Esther looked after the 
 details with coolness and precision. 
 
 Messrs. Norman and Piatt were an old-established 
 firm of county solicitors, and had been entrusted 
 by old Uncle Tewkesbury with the drawing up of his 
 will, because they were the only lawyers he had ever 
 heard of practically, and also, perhaps, because know- 
 ing they were wealthy, and in a large way of business, 
 he was less suspicious of their intentions than he 
 would have been of men who had their way to 
 make. 
 
 They could not see their client at first, but an 
 appointment was made, and later in the day Michael 
 returned to the offices, and was shown up-stairs into a 
 long old-fashioned room, with a window at the end 
 looking over a sunny old-fashioned garden. 
 
 There were no outward signs of wealth. Newer 
 firms had far better furnished offices. An old Turkey 
 carpet, faded beyond recognition of its colouring; 
 several heavy Windsor chairs with arms; two worn 
 heavy writing-tables down the centre of the room, 
 furnished with pedestals of drawers, and littered 
 recklessly with papers and dusty books ; and, for the 
 rest, shelves. Shelves everywhere, holding tin boxes 
 with painted letters on them ; more dusty books ; 
 packets and packets of dusty papers docketed, 
 strapped up, piled together. Michael Carne looked 
 round with interest. He had been here once before, 
 but was almost too excited then, at learning of the 
 little windfall come to him, to notice detail ; to-day 
 
32 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 he looked more curiously, his thoughtful mind and 
 intelligent eyes taking in all the surroundings. 
 
 Mr. Norman entered, rubbing his hands, and 
 apologized for the absence of his partner. He was a 
 middle-aged man with a pale, deeply-lined face, and 
 a slight nervous jerk of the head ; his eyes were 
 prominent, and he had a tendency to hesitation in 
 speaking, hardly a stammer, but a stop and rapid 
 continuance, almost like a little pounce. He had not 
 forgotten his humble client, the owner of the ketch 
 Brown Bird, and treated him with as studied a 
 courtesy as he would employ in conducting business 
 with the Duke of Rockhampton or Sir Peter Weld, 
 the great landowners of the county. 
 
 Michael stated his wish simply. A little loan on 
 the place to carry out repairs ; he was in good work, 
 — the miller, Mr. Emmett, was willing to give him as 
 much carrying as he could do. 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Norman, but he said no word to 
 suggest that Mr. Joshua Emmett was one of his 
 wealthiest clients. 
 
 Michael urged that he could pay back the principal 
 and interest easily in a year, as he and his daughter 
 were accustomed to careful living. 
 
 Mr. Norman smiled courteously, and suggested 
 that the point in question really was, whether the 
 little property would bear any burden. 
 
 Michael winced and flushed. He disliked the sound 
 of the expression. He had not allowed himself to 
 remember that a debt on the house practically meant 
 a distant danger of losing the house ; so he remained 
 silent, while Mr. Norman looked through papers. 
 
 Presently the lawyer looked up and asked when 
 he would require the money. Michael said he had 
 really wanted it immediately, in fact, to take back 
 with him ; he would be in Rockhampton three days, 
 certainly, and might remain longer. 
 
THE MESHES OF THE NET 33 
 
 Mr. Norman considered, jerking his head at 
 intervals, then he told Michael that he would let 
 him have a definite answer next morning, if he would 
 return at eleven o'clock, and the master of Brown 
 Bird departed to tell his daughter of the interview 
 and expectations. 
 
 As soon as he was gone the lawyer sent for one 
 of the clerks that sat writing all day in the lower 
 office, and gave him instructions for a letter to Mr. 
 Joshua Emmett, miller, of Durlmouth, to be sent out 
 by an early post. 
 
 " I think," said Mr. Norman to himself, as the 
 clerk carried away the signed letter later, " that this is 
 just what Emmett has been waiting for ; I fancy he 
 will close with this at once." 
 
 But even Mr. Norman was surprised when the first 
 morning train, the early market train, brought the 
 miller himself in answer to the proposal. 
 
 " I thought I could explain better personally," said 
 Mr. Emmett. " The fact is, I wanted to buy that bit 
 out, you know." 
 
 The lawyer nodded, adding that was why he had 
 suggested the idea of taking up the mortgage. 
 
 " This will do just as well," said the miller ; " I'll 
 advance the money under three conditions." 
 
 Mr. Norman listened, and jotted down instructions ; 
 for twenty minutes they talked, and then the miller 
 departed, prosperous, well dressed, and satisfied ; and 
 the lawyer waited for Michael Carne, who arrived at 
 eleven punctually, a little anxious, and with Esther's 
 injunctions to be careful ringing in his ears. 
 
 " I hope you will be satisfied, Mr. Carne," said Mr. 
 Norman, setting his finger-tips together and smiling 
 pleasantly. "We have communicated with our client, 
 who is willing to invest on your security to the 
 extent of £50 for one year." 
 
 " But we don't want £50," exclaimed Michael 
 
 c 
 
34 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 hastily, ",£50 is too much by a long way, I'd rather 
 have ;£io, or ^"20 at the outside." 
 
 " Well, that is where the difficulty lies," replied 
 Mr. Norman suavely. " It is not an easy thing to 
 get an advance of such small sums. Don't you think 
 you had better accept this offer ? You may not get 
 another." 
 
 Michael was silent. Presently he said uneasily, 
 " How can I pay back £50 ? " 
 
 " But, my dear Mr. Carne, you need not spend it, 
 you see," said Mr. Norman, " our client only asks 
 five per cent, interest. Now, if you go to some small 
 money-lender you will possibly get your ^"io; but 
 you may have to pay forty or fifty per cent. Perhaps 
 you know what those sort of people are ? Now, our 
 client is a most respectable man, but he does not 
 care to invest less than ^50, or for longer than one 
 year ; my advice to you is, take the money, which 
 we are empowered to hand over to you at once ; you 
 can keep it and return it with the interest ; you see, 
 you will be paying no more for it than for a less sum 
 in the other case — and, you are in safe hands." 
 
 Michael Carne looked on the ground and drummed 
 on the arms of his chair. He wished he had Esther 
 to consult with. Presently he said — 
 
 " I think I won't decide to-day." 
 
 Mr. Norman shrugged his shoulders a little. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mr. Carne, we shall not be able to 
 keep the matter open. Our instructions were very 
 definite — that the sum was to be not less than £50, 
 for not longer than one year, and that you were to 
 decide ' yes ' or ' no ' on the spot. We are very sorry 
 to hurry you, but I am afraid you must take it or 
 leave it." 
 
 There was another pause. Then the Cornishman 
 said, fixing his wistful dark eyes on the lawyer — 
 
 " You think I should be all right in doing this, sir ? " 
 
THE MESHES OF THE NET 35 
 
 " I can assure you that our client is a most 
 respected and safe man," answered the lawyer. 
 
 " He wouldn't be likely to come down on me, you 
 think ? " continued the master of the Brown Bird 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Certainly not before the termination of the year, 
 and, even then, I can hardly imagine such a 
 contingency probable," and Mr. Norman jerked his 
 head and fidgeted among the papers on his desk as 
 though the interview was exceeding the limits he 
 had prescribed. 
 
 " I owe you something, I know," said Michael, 
 after another minute of silence, " that ought to be 
 paid ; it was not much, though, because I paid the 
 most part." 
 
 " Don't let that trouble you, Mr. Carne," said the 
 lawyer pleasantly. " There is some small matter I 
 believe still owing, but nothing of importance." 
 
 Michael Carne ran through the position in his 
 mind. Unless he took this money he would be 
 hardly likely to get any. It was true that he need 
 not spend the money even though he had it ; it 
 could be locked up and returned quarterly with the 
 interest. As he considered the idea looked feasible, 
 the gloom and anxiety on his dark face lightened. 
 
 " After all, I needn't spend it," he said aloud, 
 repeating his thoughts. 
 
 Mr. Norman assented. 
 
 " Then I think I'll — I'd better decide to— to have 
 it," said Michael. 
 
 And Mr. Norman assented again. 
 
36 ( THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 
 
 T was some time before Michael Carne could 
 persuade his daughter to see the trans- 
 action in the same light in which he had 
 brought himself to regard it. 
 
 Esther was dismayed. Even ^20 would 
 have appeared to her a serious burden, but ,£50 ! In 
 vain did the master of the Brown Bird argue that it 
 really made no difference, they would use the £10, 
 not a penny more, and return the rest quarterly 
 with the interest. 
 
 " We shan't even have to pay the year's interest on 
 it, my girl, you see," argued Michael, "that way, because 
 it will pretty nearly all be back in the office in the 
 nine months." 
 
 Esther made no reply to this, it was unconvincing 
 to her instinctive dread of debt. She looked gloomily 
 out over the busy harbour, noting the boats at anchor 
 dragging at their moorings, and the bobbing of the 
 buoys swept half under by the strong incoming tide, 
 with a dull presage of coming trouble at her heart. 
 
 " Horrible money ! " she exclaimed impetuously, 
 " oh, I wish we'd never thought about it." 
 
 " What's the use of talking in that childish fashion ? " 
 said Carne angrily. "The paper is signed and the 
 thing's done, and I've got it, so what shall we gain by 
 all this fuss ? I thought you had more sense, Esther." 
 
 The girl understood the disappointment and anxiety 
 that made his voice hard. She was moved at once 
 with a quick impulse of compunction. Turning 
 quickly to him she passed her arm through his, and 
 smiled at him with a confidence she forced herself to 
 realize. 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 37 
 
 "I do believe I'm the most selfish thing living, dad. 
 Forgetting you did it all for my pleasure. Looking at 
 the dark side in a most disgraceful way. A nice sort 
 of daughter ! Forgive me, dad. Take away your sad 
 face now, and put on a nice pleasant face, and we'll go 
 this very minute and choose the paper I wanted." 
 
 Carne kissed her affectionately, and a thought 
 passed through his mind that she was a beautiful 
 woman, as he looked into the velvety brown eyes, 
 coaxing him to cheerfulness. The broad forehead and 
 noble brow, shaded by dusky, wind-blown hair that 
 seemed to belong to no other woman than Esther, for 
 it was unlike any other hair. 
 
 "God bless you, my girl," he said tenderly, " you're 
 like your poor mother in your way of looking." 
 
 " I'm like you in all the rest, dad," said Esther, "and 
 nearly as tall, and quite as strong, and not nearly as 
 clever; so you must just put up with me and come 
 for the paper, and the beehives ; now don't let us 
 forget the beehives ; we can't get any bees, too, can we, 
 dad?" 
 
 Michael laughed, but he shook his head. 
 
 "Bees are not good messmates, I should fancy," he 
 said, " you'll have to get them nearer home." 
 
 Esther considered as they walked along towards the 
 town. "Bees, bees, bees," she said to herself, then 
 suddenly stopping in the road. " Of course, dad. The 
 funny little person with the billy-cock hat and the 
 blind dog, she keeps bees. I dare say I can buy a 
 swarm from her, and she'll tell me all about it, too ; 
 what was her name ? — Mrs. Fearey! I liked her, dad, 
 didn't you ? she was such a real kind of person ; I 
 believe she'd be a true friend, don't you think so?" 
 
 Carne assented absently. Now Esther had recovered 
 he was reverting to his normal state ; yet all the time 
 glad to see her gay, and in a manner pleased at the 
 new excitement, 
 
38 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Esther chose the papers with little exclamations of 
 delighted admiration. Beauty in any form was a 
 keen pleasure to her. Carne had measured the three 
 little rooms unknown to her, two bedrooms and sitting- 
 room. Her spirits rose as she saw how small the 
 expense was. 
 
 " Fancy only tenpence a piece for that lovely pink 
 paper," she exclaimed, as they came out of the shop 
 after ordering the parcel to be sent to the boat. 
 " Don't you think, dad, we could afford some stuff for 
 curtains ? — muslin curtains would be the making of 
 the house." 
 
 Muslin was bought — enough for three little pairs. 
 Then Michael Carne decided that he wanted plain 
 serge curtains as well, because there were no blinds, 
 and when winter came there would be draughts. Old 
 Tewkesbury had never troubled about curtains, he 
 pinned an old sack across his window in winter, when 
 the candle was lighted. 
 
 A pretty hearthrug was added to the curtain 
 material ; after all, what was seven shillings and eleven- 
 pence, said Michael, when it would be the making of the 
 rooms ! A few odds and ends were remembered as 
 they wandered down the High Street — a new kettle, 
 four table-knives, a little crockery ; old Uncle Tewkes- 
 bury had considered one mug sufficient for his needs. 
 
 " It will be the most lovely place in the village," said 
 Esther, as they started back towards the harbour. 
 " Now nothing but the beehives, two beehives, not 
 expensive ones, and then we shall settle down and 
 work and work, and be as happy as the day is long." 
 
 Carne felt happy too. The girl's joy was a keen 
 pleasure to him, and the sense of money possession 
 also. The present was easy ; the future distant. 
 
 That evening the Brown Bird turned her nose 
 homewards, and ran Durlmouth way with her brown 
 wings at full stretch ; high in the water, but rich in 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 39 
 
 household treasures, she seemed to rejoice with her 
 owners, and made a splendid return journey, arriving 
 in the early summer morning, and able to run up to 
 the mill with the fair wind as she was so light with- 
 out a cargo. 
 
 Esther's impatience was not greater than her father's 
 to see the little home pretty. 
 
 Michael set to work at once. He was clever at 
 most jobs, and this was not a difficult one, nor tire- 
 some, as the walls had not been papered before, and 
 required no preparation but a good washing. 
 
 No one disturbed their work through the day. 
 But even Michael forgot to comment on the un- 
 friendliness of neighbours in the growing interest of 
 renovation, while Esther stitched at curtains, polished 
 the table and little chiffonier, and attacked the dim 
 old mantel-glass with whitening and paraffine-oil. 
 
 On the afternoon of the following day Esther, 
 finding she could do no more indoors till the bed- 
 rooms were further advanced, decided to pay a visit 
 to Mrs. Emma Fearey. 
 
 " Father," she said, " I can't do anything more 
 here now till you've got the paper on ; I'm going to 
 find out about the bees." 
 
 " Ah," said Carne, pausing in his labour of slapping 
 the ceiling with his wide flat brush. He was stand- 
 ing on a plank resting on two chairs and his head 
 almost touched the ceiling. "You can't get on up 
 here, my girl, but this will soon be through." 
 
 " How beautiful it looks," said Esther, with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Carne smiled. " Don't know about ' beautiful,' the 
 place looks pretty well messed up, seems so to me, 
 but it won't be so bad to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, father," said the girl, with her quick emphatic 
 way, " why the whole place is fifty times as light to 
 begin with — the rooms look bigger, and you seem 
 
40 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 to breathe such a fresh air. I do so love to see it 
 pretty ; father, it was good of you to do it all for me, 
 it makes me so happy." 
 
 " There, run along and get your bees, my girl, I'm 
 glad enough you're pleased," and the dark face 
 softened into pleasant lines. 
 
 Esther strolled easily through the little garden 
 and out of the rickety gate. "That will have to 
 be seen to," she thought, looking back to smile up 
 at the little window in the thatch, from whence 
 issued the energetic slapping sound of the big brush. 
 " When the thatch is mended, and the door painted, 
 it will be like a house on a Christmas-card, just a 
 picture," and she wandered up the road humming to 
 herself. 
 
 A turn towards the downs, round the end of Big 
 Field, a stretch of straight narrow road between the 
 hedges, a dip towards the sea again, just before the 
 by-road joined the wider and better made main- 
 road, and on the left side, turning their backs to the 
 broken ground that swept up to the cliff edge, and 
 facing the great upland curve of the down, two 
 little cottages leaned against each other in a cosy 
 corner. Built like Esther's home of rubble, concrete, 
 and plaster, with a thatched roof, they were just as 
 pretty, and just as wanting in modern advantages 
 of light and space. Perhaps in a town such houses 
 would have been unhealthy, but here, nestling year 
 after year in the corner of the sweet free stretch of 
 fern-sprinkled heath, with the pure air from the tall 
 downs fanning the thatch, and the rush of the salt- 
 laden gale from the ocean sweeping every crack and 
 cranny, they were cosy little English homes, where 
 people had lived out long hard-working lives in peace 
 and better health than is given to the generality. 
 
 Esther's beauty-loving nature missed no detail of 
 the scene. 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 41 
 
 " And the gardens," she thought, as she paused at 
 the gate, " both lovely. Mrs. Fearey said hers was 
 the one with the best garden, which is the best ! " 
 
 Both gardens were full of flowers, but in one the 
 planting was stifTer and more regular. Both seemed 
 rich in vegetables, but in one the flowers and vege- 
 tables grew together, and in the other, the latter were 
 arranged in neat little patches, carefully separated by 
 borders of round stones. 
 
 " I think the other one is the prettiest," thought 
 Esther, after a moment's contemplation of the neat 
 lines of pebbles, and she went up and knocked at the 
 nearest door. 
 
 A low murmur came from inside, as she knocked 
 it was checked, a chair squeaked on the stone floor, 
 and a slow step crossed the kitchen. The door 
 opened, and Esther saw at once that she had come 
 to the wrong house, for the woman that appeared 
 was not her quaint little visitor of the previous week. 
 
 In the doorway stood a slender, frail-looking old 
 woman, neatly dressed in black, with a little knitted 
 crossover shawl on her shoulders in spite of the 
 warm weather. She was very white, her face was 
 soft, thin, and colourless, and her white hair rested 
 smoothly under a neat old-fashioned cap of black 
 lace with little velvet strings tied under the chin. 
 
 Esther noticed that even her hands were white; 
 thin, hard-working hands that had put in many 
 stitches, and spent many an hour in the wash-tub. 
 
 "Does Mrs. Fearey live here?" asked Esther shyly. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey lives next door, miss," said the old 
 woman, in a voice as soft as one would have expected 
 from her gentle face. 
 
 The eyes of the woman and the girl met, and 
 Esther was startled at the depth of placid beauty 
 shadowed in the quiet eyes, that seemed to speak of 
 strength quite unwarranted by the frail white face. 
 
42 'THE BROWN EIRD ' 
 
 " Mary," interrupted a feeble voice from within, 
 " who is that you're talking to ? I wish you'd shut 
 the door, the draught seems to catch me to-day." 
 
 The old woman addressed as Mary laid her hand 
 quickly on Esther's arm, and drawing her into the 
 kitchen, shut the door. 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear," she said in her soft voice, 
 " but my sister's a great invalid ; a very great sufferer, 
 and we have to consider her." 
 
 Esther advanced rather nervously to the arm-chair 
 set by the fire-place, in which a tiny fire kept the 
 kettle singing. 
 
 " My sister's a great sufferer with the dropsy," said 
 the old woman addressed as Mary, " and her breath 
 is a terrible trial to her. I was just about getting 
 her a drop of tea ; won't you sit down, my dear, it 
 will brighten her up a bit to see a visitor?" 
 
 Esther was not much accustomed to suffering in 
 its acute forms. She looked with a shrinking of 
 intense pity and shocked horror at the poor distorted 
 figure that sat so uneasily in the arm-chair ; at the 
 haggard face with its deep purple eye-sockets. 
 
 "I'm so sorry to see you so ill," said the girl, hardly 
 knowing how to begin. 
 
 " It's nothing new. I've been getting worse this 
 five years," she was interrupted by a husky cough 
 and difficulty in breathing. " It's my breath as seems 
 the worse trial, though ; not being able to lie down 
 of a night." 
 
 " Oh how dreadful," exclaimed Esther, her expres- 
 sive face paling with pity. " How can you bear it ? 
 you must be brave." 
 
 A curious smile flickered round the mouth of the 
 invalid. 
 
 " Many here could tell you that I'm not by any 
 means always brave. I'm a bad-tempered grumbler 
 most of my time. I find it 'most too hard to 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 43 
 
 remember that it's the Lord's will, and I fight 
 against it something terrible at times. But there, 
 He knows it's a heavy burden. You're a new face, 
 my dear, I don't seem to recollect you in Durlmouth?" 
 
 Esther was glad to answer the question, and gave 
 her little history to the keen interest of the two old 
 women. 
 
 " Only think as you should be poor Esther Tewkes- 
 bury's grand-daughter. I mind her when she was a 
 bit of a girl, but she was a piece older than we was, 
 Mary," said the invalid eagerly. " And so her brother 
 forgave her and left his bit to her son. Well, I 
 never ! He was terrible set against her marrying 
 a foreigner, so I've heard — Durlmouth folk always did 
 hold together." 
 
 Esther sat a few minutes longer answering the 
 eager questions, and then she rose to go. 
 
 " I must go now," she said, smiling, " I was on my 
 way to ask Mrs. Fearey about bees ; I want her to 
 sell me a swarm to put in my new hive." 
 
 " I doubt she's got a swarm just at present," said old 
 Mary thoughtfully. " However, you'll soon see. Her 
 bees seem very quiet, but ours look like moving ; 
 they've been fussing a bit these two days ; but it's 
 terrible late in the season, my dear, they won't do 
 much this year." 
 
 " 1 don't want them to," exclaimed Esther eagerly. 
 " Of course I never thought of having honey this 
 year ; I only want them to settle down in our garden 
 happily, and feel as though they were at home. 
 Good-bye ; thank you so much for being so kind to 
 me." 
 
 A sudden smile lighted the quiet face of the old 
 woman. 
 
 " If you'd come in time and again, my dear, and 
 talk to my poor sister, you'd be doing a true kindness. 
 To take her mind off herself, that's what she wants." 
 
44 'THE BROWN BIRD 5 
 
 " Oh, I will," said Esther warmly, " only how can she 
 take her mind off herself when she is in such dreadful 
 suffering night and day?" 
 
 Old Mary looked at the beautiful girl before her, 
 standing with such ease and grace in her health and 
 strength. 
 
 "Ah, my dear, you're young," she said in her soft 
 way, " it seems too bad to be borne ; but trouble 
 comes to all of us one way and another. Trouble of 
 the body, or the mind, or the heart ; and I don't know 
 that the body pain is the worst to bear. When it 
 comes, the power to bear it mostly comes too, I seem 
 to think. The good God has promised the help, and 
 His promises never fail." 
 
 Esther looked thoughtful, but the idea did not 
 touch her as reality. God was an abstract mystery 
 to her, and not a Being that brought any feeling of 
 strength and comfort to her, such ideas were connected 
 with old age and death and sorrow, things far away 
 in the years to come. But she greatly admired old 
 Mary's " goodness," as she would have called this 
 patient peace, for her heart and nature were keenly 
 in sympathy with all that was noble, heroic, and 
 beautiful in character as well as in creation. 
 
 " I think you are very good," she said, with one of 
 her impulsive enthusiasms. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, no," said the old woman wistfully, 
 " not good, only we've learned a deal by the troubles 
 the Lord has asked us to carry, and, last of all, we've 
 learned to thank Him for the burden." 
 
 The last words were spoken almost too low for 
 a listener, and they were, moreover, interrupted by the 
 piercing voice of Mrs. Fearey, who emerged from her 
 own door at the sound of talking. 
 
 " Oh, Mary Richards, it's you, is it ; I couldn't 
 think what all the talking was about." 
 
 " Esther Carne mistook our house for yours," 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 45 
 
 answered old Mary placidly, " and we kept her talk- 
 ing a bit ; it's quite heartened Susan up, hearing a bit 
 of news, and remembering the days when we went to 
 school along of Esther Tewkesbury. Well, good-day 
 to you, Mrs. Fearey, good-day, my dear." The door 
 shut gently and she was gone. 
 
 " Now, whatever made you mistake the house ? " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Fearey cheerfully, leading the way 
 into her own dwelling, " I told you plain enough mine 
 was the house with the best garden. I don't know 
 what you call best, but I do know what every stone 
 in my borders cost me. What with the back-ache, 
 and what with Trixie disliking the walk to the shore 
 to get the stones, and keeping on so about carrying 
 the basket." 
 
 Esther murmured an apology, she saw that ideas on 
 the subject of beauty differ very much, and was afraid 
 Mrs. Fearey was offended, but the little woman was 
 too large-hearted to be ruffled by small jealousies. 
 
 "And now you are here, my dear, sit down," she 
 said, "and let me make you a bit of toast I was just 
 getting tea when Baby went to the door and sniffed 
 and sniffed, then he whined and fretted, then he 
 scratted on the door. ' Whatever has come to you, 
 child ? ' I says, ' for goodness' sake sit down and take 
 your tea like a Christian/ But no. ' Mother,' he says, 
 as plain as a child can speak, ' there's somebody new 
 outside, you just come and have a look.' Well, at first 
 I wouldn't give way to him. ' Even supposing there is,' 
 I says, 'it's no business of yours; curiosity/ I says, 
 ' carried to a pitch does a deal of mischief.' But there, 
 he wouldn't be denied. I opens the door at last, and 
 there you were just coming out of next door with 
 Mary Richards." 
 
 Esther laughed, and sat down, while the old sheep- 
 dog sat down also, on her dress, and laying his grey 
 chin on her knee looked thoughtfully into her face. 
 
46 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 "You just look at him," exclaimed Mrs. Fearey 
 admiringly, as she cut the toast, or rather the bread 
 for the toast. 
 
 " Don't make that for me," said Esther, " please 
 don't trouble." 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Fearey in quite a solemn tone, 
 as she straightened her hat which had slipped to one 
 side, " a bit of toast dipped in his tea is what Trixie 
 takes, year in year out. He'd think his poor mother 
 was gone raving wild if he didn't see his toast on the 
 table." She knelt down on the hearthrug made of 
 knitted bits of cloth, and proceeded to make the toast, 
 with a running commentary of remarks, while Esther 
 looked round the room. 
 
 There was much to look at. A little collection of 
 curiosities from many lands. Strange shells, and bits 
 of rock and coral. Strange fish, blown out like 
 bladders and covered with spikes. A case of humming- 
 birds, stuffed ; a case of weird beetles, like creatures 
 out of dream-land ; and many photographs on the 
 walls and in frames. 
 
 "Ah, my dear, you may well look," said Mrs. 
 Fearey, " my father was in her Majesty's Navy before 
 ever he went into the coastguard service. Here you'll 
 find queer things from the China seas and mercy 
 knows where. The face of the fish alone is enough 
 to make you think you've eaten cucumber the last 
 thing. The shells are sweetly pretty ; sometimes 
 when I look at them I can't believe but what they've 
 been made in some of our pottery towns ; there's 
 nothing but the sound of the sea in them to prove to 
 you that they're God Almighty's handiwork ; you get 
 up and look round. Those humming-birds from the 
 West Indies came from my husband's father, and 
 the trouble I've had with them, considering the moth, 
 is something cruel, you'd never believe." 
 
 Esther got up and wandered round the little room, 
 
ESTHER FINDS FRIENDS 47 
 
 looking at one thing after another with delighted 
 comments and interest. 
 
 Presently she stopped before the little sideboard 
 and picked up a cabinet photograph set in a frame of 
 tiny shells stuck on cardboard. The portrait was that 
 of a young man of perhaps eight-and-twenty, power- 
 fully built, with great width of chest and fine shoulders. 
 He was dressed in a guernsey, with a number on 
 the chest, and pilot-coat, and a sou'-wester hat pushed 
 back, from under the brim of which clear piercing 
 eyes looked out with entire absence of self- conscious- 
 ness. The nose was straight and rather wide at the 
 nostrils ; the mouth firmly closed and delicate in out- 
 line. The chin unusually square ; almost too square, 
 as the bones of the jaw seemed to project beyond 
 the ears. The whole face conveyed the impression 
 of extreme force and tenacity of purpose. 
 
 Esther continued to look at it ; the fearless direct 
 gaze of the eyes fascinated her. 
 
 " What have you got there ? " inquired Mrs. Fearey, 
 looking up from the toast she was arranging on the 
 tea-table, and as the girl made no answer, she 
 advanced and looked over her shoulder. 
 
 " Ah," she said, " you're looking at him, are you ; 
 that's our Steve. My own brother's son, the last of 
 the lot. Stephen Weld, the best-looking man and the 
 finest pilot on the whole south coast." 
 
48 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 
 
 ND," continued Mrs. Fearey, sitting down 
 to the table and pouring out a cup of 
 tea which she handed to Esther, " the 
 obstinacy of that boy is beyond anything. 
 ' Have your picture done in your Sunday 
 clothes, Steve/ I said. ' No, aunt/ he said, ' if I put on 
 my Sunday clothes I shall look like anybody. If I 
 keep on my working-dress I'll look like a pilot, and 
 that's what I am.' There you have Steve all over. 
 He's all for truth, and what he's said, he'll do." 
 
 Esther laughed a little, more in amusement at the 
 little woman's energetic manners than at the account 
 of Stephen Weld's peculiarities. 
 
 " I expect he's rather like you," she said mischiev- 
 ously, " I can quite fancy that you would do what you 
 say." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was flattered. She nodded her head 
 impressively as she poured out the tea into Trixie's 
 saucer, and fed him with little bits of toast soaked 
 in it. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " there you have Emma Fearey. 
 My own way I do like ; unless it's flying in the face 
 of Providence, when it comes to that we have to set 
 our own wills to one side ; but what I've said I'll do, 
 that I will do ; and that's how I came to make the 
 garden what it is. The journeys I made for those 
 stones you'd never believe. When Steve saw what 
 I'd been doing, he says, ' Aunt, why didn't you wait for 
 me and the barrow ? ' 
 
 " ' Would you have waited for anybody if you'd 
 made up your mind to do a thing ? ' I says. ' No/ 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 49 
 
 says he, ' I would not.' ' Well/ says I, ' and I wouldn't 
 neither.' So there we are. I don't deny," continued 
 Mrs. Fearey, thoughtfully placing Trixie's saucer on 
 the mat and filling it up with milk, " I don't deny 
 but it has its drawbacks sometimes ; but it's Weld 
 nature." 
 
 " I should think it is rather useful in a man," said 
 Esther quickly, and she gave a little sigh ; something 
 of the difficulties of their lives caused by her own 
 father's want of this one feature seemed to rise in 
 her mind and shadow her eyes. Not to be impression- 
 able, not to fluctuate, not to be influenced and swayed 
 by conflicting emotions, seemed to Esther to be very 
 desirable at that moment. 
 
 " It's stood Steve well," said his aunt, her bright 
 eyes resting on the girl's face and divining instinctively 
 some of the trouble. " But there, we are not all made 
 alike; and a good thing too, for we should never agree 
 if we were." 
 
 After that the talk left Stephen Weld's character- 
 istics, and bees were considered seriously. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey thought that the next-door bees meant 
 business, though it was so late in the year, and resting 
 her sharp chin on her hand she whispered over the 
 table to Esther. 
 
 " If you can see your way to taking Mary Richards' 
 bees, the bit of money would come in useful. They 
 never let on, and never complain ; but, dearie me, how 
 they live I can't think." 
 
 "But they look so neat, and they don't seeti worried," 
 said Esther, " I thought they must be well off." 
 
 " Well off," echoed Mrs. Fearey scornfully. " Two 
 shillings and a loaf from the parish. Then Mary gets 
 half-a-crown a week from the family she lived with so 
 long. You see it was this way. Mary and Susan 
 are sisters. Susan married a pilot and settled in 
 Durlmouth ; some ten years ago he was drowned, and 
 
 D 
 
50 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 she fell in bad health. They'd no children, and might 
 
 have saved a bit, but he was all for " here Mrs. 
 
 Fearey lifted an empty cup and made as though she 
 drank from it. " There you are ; he was a good fellow 
 enough, but easy ; all for treating friends when he was 
 in cash ; never looking ahead. One day he's drowned, 
 and poor Susan is left with nothing. She went out to 
 work as long as she could, and when the dropsy took 
 her, she was in terrible straits till Mary came. Now 
 shed been in service, and done well, she married a 
 coachman, and they lived a lifetime in the same 
 service. He was taken and she was left ; but her 
 master and mistress was good to her beyond anything. 
 They put her in the lodge, and allowed her five shilling 
 a week for opening the gates." 
 
 " Had she any children ? " asked Esther interested. 
 
 " Yes, she'd a family/' said Mrs. Fearey in a gloomy 
 tone. " Five ; four died when they were growing up, 
 and the only one she reared turned out a terrible cross 
 to her. He took to bad companions and evil ways, 
 and got a term of imprisonment." 
 
 " How awful/' murmured Esther. 
 
 " Ah, my dear, it was awful. He killed a man in 
 some row. I forget the rights of it, but I believe he 
 was breaking into a business place. It was a shock- 
 ing thing, and he had to serve his term down here 
 too." 
 
 " Here" exclaimed Esther, startled. 
 
 " Well, near enough ; at the big convict prison at 
 Black Rock Head. He was there when Mary came 
 to live with her sister, and many's the time I've seen 
 her going up to the cliff alone at night, and watched 
 her sitting so still on the edge there with her face 
 turned towards the shadow of the Bill away out at 
 sea. Then about three years ago he tried to escape, 
 after attacking a warder, and got shot. They did all 
 they could for him, so I heard, but he died." 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 5 I 
 
 " Why did she come to live so near ? u said Esther 
 impulsively, " I couldn't if I'd been her." 
 
 M Oh bless you, my dear, Mary Richards never 
 considers herself," said Mrs. Fearey, setting her hat 
 straight again, which had become deranged in the 
 energy of narration. " What she was thinking of, was 
 her sister Susan Wallis and her bad health. Why 
 her friends were all against her coming, and she 
 seemed to leave all she cared for in the old home, her 
 husband's and children's graves, and the friends she'd 
 spent her life with. But there it was. She seemed to 
 see it was her duty to break up her little home and 
 come to take care of Susan, so she did it." 
 
 " Why couldn't Mrs. Wallis go to her ? " asked 
 Esther quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey shrugged her shoulders a little. 
 
 " Well, my dear, she was in poor health. She'd lived 
 in Durlmouth all her life, in that house next door." 
 
 " Did Mary Richards give up her five shillings 
 a week, too, besides her home and everything else ? " 
 Esther spoke with a little flush of indignation. 
 
 " They allow her half-a-crown a week, and a 
 pound at Christmas for coal," said Mrs. Fearey ; " and 
 it's very kind, very thoughtful. She feels it so." 
 
 " And is that all they have ? " said the girl. " Oh 
 how patient some people are. And rent to come out 
 of it ; they can't do it, Mrs. Fearey." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey pursed up her lips and looked hard at 
 the girl's handsome face, so full of enthusiasm and 
 pity. Then she leaned both elbows on the table, and 
 tipped her chair forward. Trixie pricked up his ears 
 and gave a sharp short bark, her air of mystery was 
 infectious. Mrs. Fearey put a hand on his head and 
 patted it gently. 
 
 " Every month," she said in a solemn tone, " they 
 get a postal order for ten shillings — postmark Rock- 
 hampton — and that pays the rent." 
 
52 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Who from ? " said Esther. 
 
 "Ah" said Mrs. Fearey slowly, drawing back and 
 folding her hands in her lap while she looked fixedly 
 at Esther, " that's just it, who from?" 
 
 " Don't they know then ? " asked the girl. 
 
 " Know," echoed Mrs. Fearey, " no, they do not 
 know." 
 
 Esther looked at the little woman's face, so full of 
 suppressed mystery, and an idea occurred to her. 
 
 "Tioyou know ?" she said. 
 
 " I guess," said Mrs. Fearey, " I think I may say I 
 am not mistaken. But it's a dead secret. No one 
 but me knows they get it, and no one but me 
 guesses who it comes from." 
 
 " It must be some one really nice," said Esther, 
 "especially if they are not rich." 
 
 " It is some one nice," said Mrs. Fearey, suddenly, 
 " it's our Steve." 
 
 "Stephen," Esther exclaimed, surprised, then she 
 stopped and looked at Mrs. Fearey, in whose bright 
 black eyes there was a suspicious glisten of softness. 
 
 " But there, whatever made me tell you, my dear ? " 
 said Mrs. Fearey, suddenly getting up and beginning 
 to put her cups together. " Steve would be cut to 
 the soul if he thought any one guessed." 
 
 "It is good of you to tell me so much," said Esther. 
 " Of course I shouldn't speak of it. I have no friends 
 but you ; I never talk." 
 
 " Ah well, my dear, I'm your friend, and there you 
 spoke truly," said the little woman. " What, going ! 
 well, come and see Trixie and me again ; rain or 
 shine, we stick to our friends. In this world poor 
 human souls must help each other along as the 
 Almighty decrees, He never intended each to stand 
 
 alone. Well, good-bye, my dear, and " Here she 
 
 nodded mysteriously towards the adjoining cottage, 
 and with many signs and hints recalled to Esther the 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 53 
 
 benefit that a transaction in bees would be to the old 
 women next door. 
 
 The girl smiled. " I shan't forget," she said, and 
 ran down the path. At the gate she stopped to look 
 back at Mrs. Fearey, who was giving Trixie permis- 
 sion to go for a little stroll alone, with strict injunc- 
 tions about the moment of return and the direction 
 he was to take. 
 
 " To the corner and back," Esther heard her say, 
 " is as far as a child of your age should go without his 
 mother ; and now don't you take advantage, or you'll 
 be brought back a corpse one of these days, and break 
 your poor mother's heart." 
 
 Esther held the gate open, and smiled back at Mrs. 
 Fearey as the old dog passed through without a 
 glance to right or left, and turning down towards the 
 main road, proceeded on his prescribed walk with 
 stiff gait and cramped limbs. Then she turned the 
 other way, and went back along the lane to the 
 village, thinking. 
 
 There was much to think about. The three old 
 women with their various characters and strange, tragic 
 life stories. 
 
 " I never thought," said Esther, suddenly, half aloud, 
 " that there were so many brave people in the world." 
 Slowly she reviewed what she had learned that 
 afternoon in her own mind, and shivered a little in 
 spite of the warm sun and soft summer air. Life, 
 always in pain night and day, in bitter discomfort 
 and hourly torment; life, with nothing to live for, 
 with loved ones dead, disgraced, and shamed before 
 all the world ; spent in waiting on a querulous 
 invalid. That was what she had seen that afternoon, 
 and she had also seen that these two much tried ones 
 were full of patience and courage ; the one ashamed 
 of the complaints that would sometimes come against 
 her better will ; and the other entirely and utterly 
 
54 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 forgetful of self and all its many demands, given up 
 to unselfish work for the love of God. What she had 
 seen did not pass lightly over Esther's nature, but 
 went straight to her heart with strange thoughts and 
 speculations as to what a reality God must be to 
 these two souls who bore so much for His love. 
 
 Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a 
 child crying ; and a minute more revealed a little 
 creature of some three years old sitting on the side of 
 the road sobbing bitterly. Esther hastened towards 
 it, and kneeling down asked what was the matter 
 in coaxing tones. At first she was answered only 
 by renewed cries, and much rubbing of very dirty 
 little fists over still dirtier cheeks, but presently an 
 eye peeped between the stumpy fingers, and after 
 regarding her carefully there was a murmur of 
 "Knee." 
 
 " Oh, poor knee," exclaimed Esther sympathetically, 
 as the other hand pulled away the pinafore, and a fat 
 knee badly grazed and stained with gravel and dirt was 
 revealed. " Dear, dear, this is sad," as the tears burst 
 out afresh at sight of the damaged member. " Now 
 I'm going to carry you all the way home to mother," 
 and in a moment Esther lifted the sturdy little person, 
 and in spite of faint resistance at first, went on 
 towards the village talking reassuringly in her soft 
 deep voice. 
 
 As she turned the corner of the steep bank on 
 which her own home was perched, she encountered a 
 small boy strolling leisurely towards her and throwing 
 stones as he came. 
 
 " Hullo," said Esther, " can you tell me where this 
 little girl lives ? " 
 
 The little girl in question began to kick to get 
 down with vigorous legs. 
 
 " Oh no, no," said Esther, laughing, " I'm not going 
 to let you walk till that poor knee is washed." 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 55 
 
 The small boy regarded her indifferently, then he 
 said — 
 
 " It's our Lily." 
 
 " Oh, Lily is she," and Esther smiled to herself at 
 the absolute unlikeness of the sturdy little person in 
 her arms to the flower in question. "Well, Lily's 
 tumbled down and hurt her knee, and I'm just going 
 to carry her into my home and wash it with a little 
 warm water, and then you can show me where she 
 lives." 
 
 "She tumbled down up the road," remarked the 
 little boy. 
 
 "You oughn't to have left her," said Esther, trying to 
 speak severely, but really amused. 
 
 " She wouldn't come along," and the stone throwing 
 was resumed, accompanied by whistling. 
 
 " Come into my garden," said Esther, opening the 
 gate with one hand, while she held the child with the 
 other arm, making a pretty picture if she had known 
 it as she looked down at the unchivalrous brother. 
 
 In a few minutes the knee was washed and neatly 
 bound up with a piece of linen rag, and Esther was 
 answering many questions put to her by the small 
 brother, who took a keen interest in the mysterious 
 house where "Miser Tewkesbury" had lived, and 
 which he had never before had a chance of exploring. 
 
 Michael Carne came down-stairs with his pail and 
 the news that up-stairs was finished now all but the 
 papering ; and was not a little surprised to see the 
 influx of visitors talking busily and apparently quite 
 at home. 
 
 " I am just going to take Lily home," said Esther, 
 smiling. " Ok, what a dirty face ; come, we mustn't let 
 anybody see that face, it would frighten them quite 
 away." 
 
 The face, much puckered up, was washed ; and 
 Esther left the house carrying the child, whose fat arms 
 
56 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 were now clasped vigorously round her neck, while the 
 small guide ran by her side, still talking. 
 
 "I'll be back in a minute to get your tea, father," 
 she called back over her shoulder ; and the party pro- 
 ceeded on its way. 
 
 " I don't know your name yet, do I ? " said Esther, 
 looking down at the battered cap that bobbed along 
 by her side. 
 
 " I'm young Reuben Kentfield, that's who I am. 
 And my dad's got Three Sisters, the best ketch in Durl- 
 mouth ; and when I'm a man I'm going aboard her, 
 and sometimes I goes to Salterne and Rockhampton 
 now." 
 
 " My dad's got the Brown Bird" said Esther, " so 
 we've both got big boats to sail in." 
 
 There was a pause, then the small boy asked 
 cautiously — 
 
 " Is your dad the foreigner, then ? " 
 
 "My dad comes from Cornwall way," answered 
 Esther, with a little drawing together of her black 
 brows. 
 
 "Then my dad's only waiting to pay him out for 
 taking our trade," and the small informer nodded 
 confidentially, " and Will Mew's going to pay him out, 
 and so's Mr. Haynes. And they're going to drive him 
 out of Durlmouth pretty soon ; one way and another, 
 dad says, they'll make it nasty for him." 
 
 A dark flush spead over Esther's face, but it faded 
 quickly, leaving her colourless. She said nothing, 
 though the pulse in her neck beat strongly. The little 
 boy glanced up at her. 
 
 " / don't think foreigners are bad," he said rather 
 timidly. " I like Brown Bird, she goes so fast." 
 
 Esther's mouth relaxed. 
 
 " Never mind, sonny," she said, " you be a good 
 lad, and some day you'll be a fine sailor and have a 
 big ketch of your own." 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 57 
 
 They had reached the gate that led to the cottages 
 wherein lived the Kentfields and Saunders. Esther 
 walked straight up to the door, and was about to 
 knock when it opened. Some one had been watching 
 her come up the path ; in fact more than one had 
 been watching her, for Mrs. Saunders' door opened 
 at the same time, and her sharp face appeared full of 
 eager curiosity. 
 
 Esther said to the stout pale woman who confronted 
 her — 
 
 " Are you Mrs. Kentfield, because I found your 
 little girl Lily crying in the road beyond our house ? " 
 
 " What were you doing up there, you bad girl ? " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Kentfield. 
 
 The child began to whimper and sob. 
 
 "She had fallen down and cut her knee rather 
 badly," went on Esther, setting the little figure gently 
 on the doorstep. 
 
 " I've told you times on times you're not to go up 
 the road, you naughty child. That's for your dis- 
 obedience." 
 
 There was a sharp slap on the fat arms, a burst of 
 shrieks, Lily was roughly clutched by the arm and 
 flung aside into the kitchen ; and Esther found 
 herself standing with door slammed in her face, while 
 little Reuben, seeing the air was stormy, disappeared 
 quickly round to the back with noiseless steps. 
 
 Esther stood for a moment on the step, startled 
 even out of any consciousness of anger. She could 
 hear the cries and sobs of poor Lily, and the scoldings 
 of the mother from within ; deepest indignation welled 
 up in her mind, she turned from the door with her 
 head held high and shoulders squared, only to find 
 herself face to face with Mrs. Saunders, who was 
 watching her eagerly from the other side of the low 
 hedge partition of fuchsias and box. 
 
 Esther had no idea that this little sharp woman, 
 
58 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 who rather resembled a ferret with her pointed face 
 and sandy hair, was the wife of the uncourteous 
 miller's man ; acting on sudden impulse she stopped 
 and said, with a little quiver in her voice — 
 
 " Why is Mrs. Kentfield so rude to me, what have 
 I done?" 
 
 " Was she rude, miss ? " said Mrs. Saunders, with 
 apparent surprise. " I'm sure I never noticed." 
 
 " I only came to bring back her little girl," went on 
 Esther, who felt a natural desire to explain and 
 justify herself. 
 
 " Ah," said Mrs. Saunders, looking the girl up and 
 down with keen eyes of disapproval and malevolence. 
 "That's where it is, Mrs. Kentfield was never one 
 to like people interfering with her children." 
 
 " But the little girl was hurt," said Esther in- 
 dignantly, " her knee was all grazed, she was crying 
 in the road, alone ; so I washed her knee and carried 
 her back." 
 
 " Ah well," said Mrs. Saunders again, retreating 
 slowly into her house with an air as though she could 
 not go so far as to believe this without evidence of 
 its truth. " I'm sure / don't wish to say anything," 
 and she shut the door. 
 
 Esther walked quietly down the path holding 
 herself in with difficulty. She would have liked to 
 shake both these suspicious, ill-natured women ; to 
 tell them what she thought of them. Her heart was 
 beating fast, her hands trembling, and burning tears 
 sprang into her eyes. 
 
 Suddenly she laughed bitterly. 
 
 " Idiot that I am to care. Horrible, spiteful people; 
 disgusting ill-natured creatures. I don't care. I will 
 fight them all, and show them dad and I can easily 
 live without them." 
 
 She dabbed her eyes quickly with a handkerchief, 
 and shook herself a little. Then the words of young 
 
ESTHER FINDS ENEMIES 59 
 
 Reuben Kentfield recurred to her mind, and she 
 drew up her head and clenched her hands at her 
 sides. " Pay us out," will they, " cowardly set of bad- 
 hearted men. I won't speak to any of them, even 
 if they speak to me ; I'll hate them all." 
 
 As she entered the house her father looked up 
 from washing his brushes and saw something was 
 amiss ; and Esther, in the first impulse of desire for 
 sympathy, told him of her reception at Mrs. Kentfield's. 
 
 Michael Carne smiled bitterly. " Didn't I tell you, 
 my girl, how it would be. It's nothing new, I told 
 you so from the first how set against us they all are. 
 Well, I suppose we two can fight the lot, and Brown 
 Bird shall do the same for their crazy lot of boats." 
 
 Esther was flushed, and in her beautiful eyes was 
 a hard look ; she laughed as she set the tea, and 
 her movements were quicker and more noisy than 
 usual. 
 
 " We can do without the lot, dad, can't we ? " 
 
 " Ah, my girl," said Carne, " we can that. / never 
 found much good come of being friends with any one 
 myself, they're mostly bad. They get behind your 
 back and do you all the harm they can. Do your 
 own work and let them all go. We've got our pride 
 to stand on, and that will carry us through, we don't 
 want any Durlmouth folk, and we won't be beholden 
 to a soul." 
 
 Esther made no demur to a programme which she 
 would have rejected earnestly a few hours before ; 
 her insulted feelings and outraged pride blinded her 
 better nature. The memory of the patient lives 
 of her old neighbours, and their real troubles nobly 
 borne, was gone from her, swallowed up in bitter 
 indignation. 
 
 Her mind was busy in eager schemes for punishing 
 these people who had insulted her ; for making them 
 regret the hour they had ever set themselves against 
 
60 C THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 her and her father, and for getting the better of them 
 and their boats in every way possible. 
 
 "There's one thing, dad," she said suddenly, after 
 a pause, in which her mind busily reviewed the 
 circumstances. " I think Mr. Emmett the miller 
 likes you and Brown Bird, doesn't he ? " 
 
 Michael drew his pipe from his lips and blew a 
 little cloud of smoke thoughtfully. 
 
 "Well, I think Mr. Emmett keeps an open mind. 
 He's about the hardest-headed chap I've ever met 
 with. The little I've seen of him looks like this : 
 he goes his way, and he gets all he can out of every- 
 body. He wouldn't take any side, he'd just employ 
 what labour paid him best." 
 
 " But he always seems to give Brown Bird the 
 best chance, doesn't he, dad ? " 
 
 " No, my dear, not really. It is just that Broiun 
 Bird is a faster boat, better managed. She was ready 
 when the others were asleep. They're a pretty 
 heavy lot down here, it takes all the world to wake 
 them up. The miller, he's as sharp as needles, and 
 he's always trying to stir them up to a little energy ; 
 but there, they didn't care as long as they'd got it 
 all their own way. Durlmouth is not the only place 
 that's dozing on the south coast here." 
 
 Esther laughed. 
 
 " Durlmouth wouldn't be bad if it wasn't for the 
 people." 
 
 Carne assented. 
 
 Presently he said, as his mind flew to another 
 topic — 
 
 " Do you know, I believe we'll have to have this 
 whole roof re-thatched." 
 
 " Oh, father, surely not," said Esther in dismay. 
 
 "I've been looking at it carefully," went on Michael, 
 " inside and out, and all round ; the wet comes in in 
 twenty places, it's a regular sieve round the chimneys. 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 6l 
 
 To make a really good job it'll have to be done all 
 over, we can't patch it, it would be work and money 
 wasted. Besides, there are the new ceilings now, they 
 look as nice as can be up-stairs, and we can't let the 
 new papers be spoilt ; they will be if something isn't 
 done, for the old streaks of wet, where the rain has 
 come in in winter, are there on the walls plain to see." 
 
 " Won't it cost a lot ? " said Esther doubtfully. 
 
 "Oh well, it will of course, a matter of ten or twelve 
 pounds," said Michael gloomily. 
 
 " Oh, dad, how dreadful. All that money on the 
 roof. Why, think what we've spent already." 
 
 " Well, it's no use talking about that," said Carne, 
 impatiently knocking the ashes out of his pipe. 
 " It's always the way with me. I'm the most unlucky 
 man ever born, and what seems to be a bit of luck 
 turns out to be not worth having, after all." 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 
 
 ;N about ten days' time Esther asked Mrs. 
 Fearey to tea in the completed house. 
 The thatch was perfect ; the door and 
 window-frames were painted ; the papers 
 were on ; the curtains up ; and the new 
 rug displayed in all its beauty. 
 
 The bitter spirit that had held sway over Esther's 
 heart ever since the day of her encounter with Mrs. 
 Kentfield and Mrs. Saunders seemed to be laid for 
 the time at least, and her expressive face was full of 
 happiness. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey called round in the morning to say 
 
62 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 she was going to take Mary Richards' swarm that 
 day ; and on the strength of it Esther asked her to tea. 
 
 "Arn't you afraid, Mrs. Fearey?" asked the girl, 
 amused at the resolute air of the little woman. 
 
 "Afraid, I afraid I my dear, you don't know Emma 
 Fearey. Times out of number I've managed the bees 
 of half the village ; / know their ways, don't you make 
 a mistake. It's a late swarm, but that don't matter, as 
 you're not set on honey this year, and there's time for 
 them to make enough to keep themselves all winter, 
 pretty dears, with perhaps a saucer of sugar now and 
 again. I've got an old straw hive I'll shake 'm into, 
 my dear, and then I'll bring it round, and have them 
 in the fine new hive before you could crack a nut. 
 There, I can't wait, Mary Richards' garden is all alive, 
 you should just hear the music. I believe they're going 
 to settle on the old laburnum tree by the pump, out- 
 side the wash-house." 
 
 " Oh, can I come and watch ? " cried Esther after 
 the retreating figure. 
 
 w Watch, bless you, no ; the bees don't like to be 
 looked at, / always find. I've got a way with them, 
 but they're not folk as cotton to everybody," and the 
 active little figure clapped away down the path on 
 the tall clogs, calling to Trixie who pranced stiffly 
 behind aware that something exciting was about to 
 break the monotony of everyday existence. 
 
 Esther cleared away dinner early, set the house in 
 perfect order, laid out a tempting tea, and waited full 
 of expectation. Her father had gone down to see 
 the miller on business, and also to overhaul Brown 
 Bird, whose needs had been set aside since the 
 work on the house had demanded all their care and 
 attention. 
 
 For the twentieth time Esther ran to the door 
 to look, on hearing a noise in the road, and beheld a 
 curious spectacle approaching. 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 63 
 
 Mrs. Fearey, strangely attired, and carrying in her 
 arms an old straw hive, from the interior of which 
 issued a deep musical boom, while around her head 
 circled a halo of excited followers. 
 
 Esther flew towards the gate, but the intrepid Mrs. 
 Fearey warned her off with cries and violent head- 
 shaking. 
 
 " Get away, get away, my dear. They're touchy 
 as can be. Trixie can't hardly get on with them to- 
 day, and in a usual way they'll behave like lambs to 
 him. Come along, come along, my dearie boy, 
 they're only teasing ; don't you take no notice." And 
 she swept past the corner of the house towards the 
 sheltered nook where the new hive was set, followed 
 by Trixie stoically indifferent but for sharp shakes of 
 the head and an occasional harmless snap at the 
 worrying, noisy cloud. 
 
 Esther leaned against the corner of the cottage and 
 burst into a peal of laughter, while she flapped her 
 apron at angry belated members of the swarm. Mrs. 
 Fearey had on a pilot's sou'-wester hat, of course far 
 too large, and over that her figure was encased to the 
 hips, arms and all, in a dark-green muslin bag, 
 terminating at the wrists in thick gloves. Over her 
 usual boots she wore thick knitted stockings, such as 
 are worn by pilots when out in the cold months, and 
 these, being intended for a large and tall man, appeared 
 to encase her completely. 
 
 But in spite of her strange habiliments she was 
 evidently a courageous and experienced bee-keeper, 
 and Esther remained absorbed in watching until all 
 was done. 
 
 " I hope you're not stung," she said eagerly; " I was 
 really frightened one minute." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey laughed as she looked herself over 
 and shook off the stupid bees who seemed to have lost 
 their way. " No use being frightened when you're in 
 
64 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 for it, my dear; if you're going to be frightened never 
 begin — that is a good maxim in most things, and 
 particularly with bees. They'll be all right; I saw 
 the queen, and put her in. They're making a fine 
 old shindy now, but that's only their silly fancies, not 
 being sure where she is, you know. Bees are about 
 the most wonderful of all God Almighty's wonderful 
 creatures, and the more you see of them the more you 
 wonder at the mysteries of the Lord's ways." 
 
 " I should like to learn all about them ever so 
 much," said Esther eagerly. 
 
 " So you shall, my dear ; here, help me off with this, 
 I feel stifled ; glad enough shall I be of a cup of tea. 
 Trixie, lad, come here and let mother look at you, and 
 see if the silly things gave you a pinch when their 
 fancies had run away with their common-sense." 
 
 Trixie submitted to be looked over, but he was 
 scathless, much to Mrs. Fearey's satisfaction, and the 
 party sat down to the table with a sense of good work 
 well done. 
 
 u My word, you have smartened up the place," said 
 the little woman presently, as she sat back in her chair 
 and looked round. " Not before it was wanted, though, 
 I must say. Your great-uncle Tewkesbury wouldn't 
 know the place. It was common talk in the village 
 that he was a miser, and had put by a pot of money." 
 
 " If he did, we never got any of it," said Esther 
 gaily. 
 
 " Never got any of it," echoed Mrs. Fearey, setting 
 down her cup in genuine surprise. " Why, my dear, 
 
 however did your father manage ? I beg your 
 
 pardon, I'm sure, don't let me seem to be in anyways 
 pressing to know other people's business." 
 
 H You're never that, Mrs. Fearey," said Esther, 
 heartily. " No, I really mean it. We got the house, 
 as it was, and what furniture he had, which was very 
 little — we brought our own chiefly, you know — and, of 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 65 
 
 course, the garden. The garden seemed to be his chief 
 thought, poor old man. He put in the will that if 
 father would take care of it as he had always done 
 he'd find it would be a great advantage to him, or 
 something like that ; there was a sort of special 
 injunction to us not to neglect the garden, but to dig 
 it and plant it well, and we should find good would 
 come of it." 
 
 " Good mostly does come of honest work, however 
 you take it," said Mrs. Fearey cheerfully. " But I 
 never should have thought he had no money to 
 leave." 
 
 " Why ? He lived like a poor man," said Esther, 
 " and the house was very shabby. I confess I did hope 
 at first that we should find some money hidden like 
 you read of in stories. I hunted out that little side- 
 board from end to end, and we had a regular turn out. 
 There were no loose planks or loose bricks in the 
 hearth like you read of sometimes. I really believe 
 he was poor, and kept himself alive by the garden- 
 stuff, he seemed to love the garden." 
 
 " He was always working in it," said Mrs. Fearey, 
 feeding Baby with soaked toast. " Always. Day and 
 night, you might almost say, for I've seen him some- 
 times at work after dark, and in the moonlight too. 
 That's where it is, you must love something. But 
 your father's spent a pretty penny on the place, 
 seemingly. Not that it isn't well worth it ; it pays 
 you over and over." 
 
 " Father thought it was well worth it, and so he 
 borrowed a little money on a mortgage to do it with," 
 said Esther. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said the little woman, with a startled 
 look at the girl. 
 
 " It is very little, of course," said Esther, conscious 
 of the surprise, " and we shall easily return it in the 
 year. The interest is very little, because we went to 
 
 E 
 
66 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 the best lawyer and got it from a real good man ; it 
 is not like a dangerous money-lender, you see." 
 
 " Ah, that's well," said Mrs. Fearey, trying to look 
 satisfied. 
 
 " We went to Mr. Norman and Mr. Piatt of Rock- 
 hampton," said Esther rather proudly. " They wrote 
 out uncle's will and kept it, you know. They are 
 very safe gentlemen." 
 
 " Oh, they are, no doubt," said the little woman 
 thoughtfully; "and do they lend the money? " 
 
 Esther shook her head. " Not themselves. They 
 said a client, a man who was rich and very 
 respectable, lent it for one year at a low interest." 
 
 " Ah," said Mrs. Fearey, again thoughtfully. Then 
 throwing off her little air of anxiety, she said, " Well, 
 you and Mr. Carne will soon make it up if you're 
 brisk, and you'll get a lot of pleasure out of the house. 
 There's nothing like work, however you look at it. 
 Ah, here he is, in time for a cup of tea." 
 
 As she spoke the tall figure of Michael Carne 
 darkened the doorway. He was carrying a large 
 bundle of brown sails in his arms, which he threw 
 down in a corner without a word. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Mr. Carne," said Mrs. Fearey 
 cheerfully; " lovely day, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Can't say I've thought much about the weather, 
 ma'am ; there are some things that drive it out of your 
 head. Nice place this Durlmouth of yours, and nice 
 sort of folk live in it, when a man can't leave his boat 
 a week without watching." 
 
 " What's the matter, father ? " asked Esther 
 anxiously; while Mrs. Fearey's black eyes glanced 
 from the hard face of the Cornishman to the pile of 
 brown sailcloth, without remark. 
 
 " I went to the mill and saw Mr. Emmett about the 
 carrying. Haynes' boat has gone for coal ; and 
 Mew's went out with flour two days ago. The miller 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 67 
 
 got a message from Salterne, and wanted some one to 
 go down sharp and fetch some corn waiting ; the 
 Three Sisters is all behind, as usual, and he offered 
 me the job. Of course I was ready enough, and went 
 down to get all square as I wanted to get out on the 
 top of the flood at five o'clock to-morrow morning. 
 And what do you suppose I find?" 
 
 Esther shook her head as he paused. Mrs. Fearey 
 stroked the dog's head softly, and watched him. 
 
 " Why, this ! " and Michael seized the great stiff sail 
 and held it up. A large jagged hole revealed itself. 
 " And look here." He pulled out the under sail, 
 kicking the top one aside, and held that up for 
 inspection ; it was slit almost from top to bottom. 
 
 There was a gloomy silence. Esther drew herself 
 together and squared her shoulders with the little 
 characteristic attitude in which she always faced a 
 difficulty. Her face paled, and she closed her lips 
 tightly. 
 
 " We can mend them," she said presently, in a low 
 voice. Then, after considering, "You haven't got 
 another jib the same size, father?" 
 
 Carne shook his head impatiently. " Only the 
 storm-jib," he said. "That would be no use, she 
 won't steer properly with the whole mainsail up if 
 we're only carrying a storm-jib." 
 
 " Father," said Esther, getting up and coming over 
 to the pile of sails, " we'll go out at five o'clock to- 
 morrow, same as though it had never happened." 
 
 " You talk nonsense," exclaimed Carne angrily. 
 
 "Have you got the right needles and a 'palm'?" 
 suddenly asked Mrs. Fearey ; she had remained a 
 watchful listener till now. 
 
 Carne looked up at Esther, as though asking her. 
 The girl went up to the little sideboard and opened 
 the top drawer, pulled out sail-thread, needles, and a 
 " palm," and laid them on the tea-table. " I can work 
 
68 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 as well as you, father," she said eagerly ; " you know I 
 can use a thimble instead of the palm, I don't hurt 
 myself." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey got up and gave herself a brisk little 
 shake, then she dragged over the big sails with her 
 small strong hands, and examined the damage with 
 pursed lips. 
 
 " Not so bad, but it might be worse," she said at last. 
 " You'll want a big patch on the foresail, it won't spoil 
 the beauty of it, for you've patched it before, I see." 
 
 " I don't believe we've got a bit," said Esther 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Don't you worry ; I have," said the little woman, 
 measuring the rent with experienced eye. " Why, 
 bless you, my dear, many's the sail I've worked at 
 from morning till night, and sometimes night till 
 morning. I hadn't always enough to live upon even 
 in poor Fearey's time, he was so subject to the 
 bronchitis and asthma in winter, you'd hardly believe, 
 for a stout-looking fellow as he was. Sometimes he 
 couldn't go out half winter, so I practised sail mend- 
 ing, and many's the shilling we got that way ; the men 
 haven't often the time, and the women never seem to 
 be much of a hand." 
 
 " Have you really got a piece big enough to cover 
 this ? " said Esther eagerly. 
 
 " Say no more, my dear, I've got everything," said 
 Mrs. Fearey, gathering up her bee-dress. " And now 
 if you don't mind I'll trot up home, but I'll come 
 down later and bear a hand with this job." 
 
 " How good you are," said Esther earnestly ; " a 
 real kind friend." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you, ma'am," added Michael, 
 holding out his hand. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey took the hand, and looked up into the 
 face of the tall dark man with her head on one side 
 like a robin. 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 69 
 
 " And you needn't call it my Durlmouth," she said 
 briskly. " Whatever you find it, the Almighty made 
 it ; and the people in it are much like other folk ; 
 good enough when they try and be what their Maker 
 intended, and bad enough when they follow their own 
 wills. That is where all the trouble in the world 
 seems to get brewed : in people's own wilful natures. 
 Well, I'll be back pretty soon, don't you worry about 
 the sails ; if everything was as easily set right as that 
 we shouldn't have much to complain of," and with a 
 nod, she trotted down the path calling Trixie, and 
 followed by Esther. 
 
 At the gate they were encountered by the sight of 
 two small figures ; evidently waiting about with a 
 purpose. Young Reuben Kentfield, with a small 
 stick in one hand, and a very large blunt sailor's 
 knife in the other, leaned against the gate-post 
 outside, pretending indifference; while Lily, still 
 dirty and fatter, if possible ; not having arrived at 
 the age when it is considered desirable to hide the 
 feelings, frankly flattened her button of a nose on the 
 gate and stared through the bars, holding tightly with 
 both fat hands meanwhile ; a neglected doll with one 
 leg and no head lay on the step of the bank below. 
 
 As Esther approached, the little boy stared up and 
 down the road with affected indifference ; but Lily 
 shook the gate vigorously. 
 
 " Hullo, hullo ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fearey, peeping 
 over the top of the barrier at the round fat face 
 staring upwards, " and pray what do you want ? " 
 The gate opened inwards, and Lily let go as the 
 latch was raised, but remained standing in the same 
 place with her fingers pressed over her eyes. 
 
 " I expect they want me," said Esther in rather a 
 hard voice. " I brought them in the other day 
 because the baby hurt her knee, and Mrs. Kentfield 
 was as nasty to me as she could be when I took 
 
70 "THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 them back. I don't mean to have them again ; I've 
 no notion of letting them think I want to make up 
 to them." 
 
 " Seems as though these young ones wanted to 
 make up to yoti" said Mrs. Fearey cheerfully. " After 
 all, poor things, it wasn't their fault." 
 
 " Of course not," said Esther, making no advance 
 however in reply to the wistful peeping of Lily, " I 
 don't blame the children ; but I'm not going to have 
 anything to do with the village. The way they treat 
 us is horrible ; not content with being rude and 
 unkind, now they have tried to damage our boat. I 
 shan't speak to any of them." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey's brows gathered with a little troubled 
 pucker, but she made no remark. 
 
 " Go home, Lily, like a good child," said Esther 
 distantly. " Reuben, take her back ; you know you 
 ought not to come here, your mother will be cross." 
 
 The boy slowly left his position, and with a " Come 
 on, Lil " thrown over his shoulder sauntered into the 
 road whittling the stick. 
 
 But Lily had a fixed hope in her small mind, a 
 memory of Esther's strong kind arms and soft cheek ; 
 she had not arrived at a stoical age, therefore her 
 lips fell and heavy tears gathered in her round eyes. 
 
 " Oh dearie, dearie me ! " said the pilot's widow, with 
 a tenderness that seemed unexpected from her abrupt 
 manner, " crying never did any good yet. Here's my 
 Trixie trying to tell you to cheer up." 
 
 This was strictly true, for the old dog fussed round 
 the child, wagging his tail, finally arresting the fall of 
 the tears by licking her whole face in a complete and 
 vigorous manner. Then he picked up the remnants 
 of the doll and carried it to Mrs. Fearey, laying it 
 at her feet with little whines of excitement. 
 
 " Now look at that," exclaimed his mistress proudly, 
 " many's the lesson I've learned from the dumb 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 7 1 
 
 animal. You see he was reminding us that we've got 
 poor dolly to take care of too. Why, bless me, she's 
 all over dust ; now I shouldn't be surprised if I'd got 
 something." 
 
 The little woman plunged her hand into her pocket 
 and drew therefrom a handkerchief in a Paisley 
 pattern with a bright border ; in one minute the 
 crippled doll was gaily arrayed, a safety-pin through 
 her body clinching the matter, and handed over to Lily, 
 whose hands were stretched to receive the treasure. 
 
 " Now you run off home and put her to bed ; she's 
 ever so tired all this long time out of bed," continued 
 Mrs. Fearey, lifting the small mother down the steep 
 steps and setting her face homewards. " And don't 
 you cry, whatever you do ; grown mothers don't have 
 no time to cry, there's the babies to be thought about. 
 Here, lad, look after your little sister ; it's what God 
 Almighty put you into the world for principally, to 
 keep off the hard knocks, and show yourself a man. 
 Remember you'll never be able to look after a boat if 
 you can't look after a girl ; there's a wonderful likeness 
 between them at times." 
 
 Young Reuben seemed impressed by this argument, 
 and guided Lily down the road by pulling at the 
 shoulder-strap of her pinafore, as a hand was not 
 available, both her fat arms being firmly clasped 
 round the doll, which she was "hushing" in audible 
 tones. The old sheep-dog accompanied the pair for 
 some twenty yards down the road village-wards, and 
 then returned to his mistress, looking in her face and 
 wagging his stump of a tail. 
 
 " Quite right, my son, quite right," said Mrs. Fearey 
 approvingly ; " they're young, and they'll want a good 
 bit of care this many years. Well, we must be off 
 home, there's a job or two wants seeing to, and then 
 we'll come back and show them what our fingers are 
 made of." 
 
72 f THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Esther had remained a spectator of the little scene, 
 and was conscious of a sense of shame and discomfort 
 tugging at her heart; consequently she was the 
 more anxious to justify herself. 
 
 "Of course it's nothing to do with the children, but 
 I'm not going to let these people think I want them. 
 It is just as likely that they would say I try to get in 
 with them> through the children." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey looked up and down the road. 
 
 " I don't want to hurt the children" said Esther 
 again insistently. 
 
 " Eh, dear lass, no, of course you don't," said the 
 little woman, looking up at the girl's fine face kindly. 
 " But that's one of the worst things that comes of the 
 ' paying out ' plan ; we mostly hurt the wrong people, 
 and ourselves most of all. Nothing in the world does 
 any one so much harm as making a home in their 
 hearts for the evil spirit of revenge." 
 
 " They deserve it," said Esther. 
 
 " Ah well, we must run, my dear, or the holes will 
 stop as they are in your sails. Come along, sonny," 
 and the old woman disappeared round the corner still 
 talking, while Esther returned indoors, cleared away 
 the tea, put the house right, and got all ready for the 
 evening's work. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey had her nightly work to do, of helping 
 Mary Richards get her poor sister to bed. The little 
 woman was strong in spite of her small size, and many 
 things that were done for Susan Wallis could not 
 have been done by old Mary alone. So Mrs. Fearey 
 carried a bright face and interesting description of 
 the settling down of the bees into the neighbouring 
 cottage, but she said nothing of the damage done to 
 Michael Carne's boat, for it was one of her rules 
 never to carry tales. 
 
 "' Least said, soonest mended/" she would say when 
 any one appealed to her; "no one can rightly under- 
 
MRS. FEAREY HELPS IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 73 
 
 stand what's in another person's heart and mind. 
 Then if you go and spread a tale against them, you 
 may likely as not have done a world of harm, for it 
 mightn't have been done in the way you thought it 
 was." 
 
 As she bustled about her own house the thought of 
 Esther returned again and again. 
 
 " Poor lass, poor lass, what a pity ( they deserve it ! " 
 she said. " Look at that, Trixie, boy. If we all got 
 our deservings it would be a sore time for most of us. 
 Dearie me, lad : there's always some of us ready to 
 put the merciful God right, seems to me, and tell Him 
 what other people deserve. What a blessed thing it is 
 for us that He can see outside of it all. Are you 
 ready, Trixie, to mend the sails? Come along then, 
 mother's not going to leave you at home to break 
 your heart," and the pair trotted off again side by 
 side. 
 
 It was between one and two o'clock in the morning 
 when they returned, and Mrs. Fearey's bright eyes 
 were heavy with sleep; her head ached and her back 
 ached still more, but she said nothing, and was up at 
 her usual hour next morning, just about the time 
 when the Brown Bird slipped down the creek, with 
 her brown sails glowing red at the touch of the 
 crimson sunrise. 
 
74 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 
 
 HE miller knew nothing of the matter. He 
 saw the sails of Brown Bird sliding 
 out between the tree-tops, appearing and 
 disappearing as the curves of the creek 
 revealed or hid her ; and congratulated 
 himself on having found such a punctual and energetic 
 carrier. 
 
 " Nothing like a little new blood in a place," said 
 Mr. Emmett, well satisfied with his own discernment. 
 " Wonder if the daughter has gone with him this time." 
 Later on he asked Saunders, who was looking 
 extremely glum, if Esther Carne had gone with her 
 father in the ketch. 
 
 " Gone, oh yes, sites gone," replied the miller's man, 
 as though this in some way militated against the girl. 
 " Capital girl, eh, something like a daughter ? " and 
 Mr. Emmett took in at a glance the sour jealousy in 
 his man's expression, with amusement but no disap- 
 proval. "Every man for himself" was to his mind a 
 good motto ; while he had a distinct intention in 
 keeping alight the rivalry and contention between the 
 ketch-owners, as it answered his business purposes 
 and amused him at the same time. 
 
 Later, the miller walked up to the corner of Big 
 Field and had a good look at the cottage. He went 
 into the garden and walked round ; examined the new 
 thatch, and even looked in at the window. Then he 
 smiled a little to himself. " Fifty pounds melt when you 
 take to this sort of thing," he thought, e ' and a year 
 is a very short time when you owe money. Well, it's 
 his look-out ; he knew his risk," and Mr. Emmett left 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 75 
 
 the little homestead with a well pleased air ; it did 
 not even occur to him to consider the pain of those 
 who might suffer for his advantage, he would have 
 said that was no affair of his. 
 
 As he came out of the garden-gate and descended 
 the uneven bank steps into the road, a very tall man 
 passed quickly in the direction of Mrs. Fearey's cottage. 
 He made a sort of salutation as he passed, and the 
 miller replied with " Morning, Weld, back again ! " and 
 turning in the opposite direction returned to the mill 
 and his many duties. 
 
 Meanwhile the tall man proceeded towards the 
 cottages round the turn of the road with long easy 
 strides, whistling as he went, and soon came in sight 
 of Mrs. Fearey digging potatoes for her dinner, and 
 talking to herself and Trixie with vigorous gestures 
 meanwhile. As the little gate swung on its rickety 
 hinges she looked round, and dropped her fork with 
 a cry of pleasure. 
 
 " Why, bless us, it's never you, Steve ! I wasn't 
 looking for you yet awhile." 
 
 " Well, here I am," said the new-comer. " We had a 
 quicker turn than usual, I fancy, but you can never 
 tell. It's been splendid weather, and that makes a 
 difference. Old Dave Occomore came up last night, but 
 he found his grandson going out on some new ketch." 
 
 " Ah," said Mrs. Fearey, picking up her fork. 
 
 " Here," exclaimed Stephen, " that'll do for this 
 time. No more potato-digging for you, Aunt Fearey, 
 till I'm away again. By the way, I'll get this lot taken 
 up for you before I go, and store them in the wash- 
 house. I thought you wouldn't be looking for me, so 
 I brought a bit of dinner along. And, look here, Aunt 
 Fearey," he fumbled with the parcel awkwardly, " we 
 can't eat all this before it turns, this weather, so I 
 thought old Mary Richards could have a bit of it ; 
 there's plenty, I fancy." 
 
j6 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Plenty, I should think so," said Mrs. Fearey 
 laughing, as she weighed on her hand the six or seven 
 pounds of meat contained in the parcel. 
 
 " Oh, and here are some more things," went on the 
 pilot, feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried on 
 his arm. " Tea and such-like — bacon — I couldn't 
 bring any butter along, aunt, it's too hot." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey received a collection of blue and white 
 grocery parcels in her apron, with approving com- 
 ments. And later on several of them found their way 
 into the little kitchen next door, as Stephen found 
 there were more parcels than he had expected. 
 
 A cheerful sound of frizzling issued from both the 
 little kitchens, and when the tall pilot looked in next 
 door, bending his head considerably to do so, he found 
 quite an atmosphere of well-being ; a flush of pleasur- 
 able excitement on the worn cheeks of poor Susan 
 Wallis, and old Mary's eyes bright with happiness 
 over her sister's enjoyment, and relief at the lifting of 
 the daily burden. 
 
 "What a treat, Steve, lad ! " said old Susan, waving 
 her thin hand towards the pan on the fire. " First 
 bit of fresh meat we've seen since you were here 
 last. How long's that ? — seems weary weeks to us." 
 
 " Month ; perhaps six weeks, Mrs. Wallis," said 
 Stephen, " and I'm glad to be back. How's the world 
 going with you and Mrs. Richards ? " 
 
 " She's been very poorly," said old Mary gently. 
 "Very poorly. Things have seemed to come hardly 
 to her, more than usual ; there's so little to take her 
 mind off it. If it wasn't for your aunt I don't know 
 how we should do sometimes. One day Esther 
 Carne come in and cheered her a bit." 
 
 " Who's Esther Carne ? " asked the pilot. 
 
 "Well, you wouldn't remember her grandmother. 
 Esther Tewkesbury she was ; went to school with 
 Mary and me years agone. Then she married a 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME yj 
 
 foreigner, Carne his name was, and went to live 
 down Cornwall way. She'd a son, own nephew he 
 was to old Tewkesbury as all the town called ' Miser 
 Tewkesbury.' " 
 
 " Oh, I seem to see," said Stephen, as old Susan 
 paused for breath. " The old fellow died, didn't he, 
 and the cottage went to his nephew ? " 
 
 "Yes, that's it," said old Susan nodding eagerly. 
 " Michael Carne, he's got the place, and Esther, she's 
 his daughter." 
 
 "She bought a swarm of ours yesterday," said old 
 Mary, as she set the plates and knives on the table. 
 " Nice young woman she is, so fine and upstanding." 
 
 " Takes after her father, seemingly," added old 
 Susan. " We couldn't see anything of poor Esther 
 Tewkesbury in her, could we, Mary ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know, there was something. But 
 then, you see, that was likely enough, seeing that her 
 father was own son to Esther." 
 
 " Ah," said old Susan, " I was forgetting that, and 
 thinking he was quite a foreigner." 
 
 Stephen, seeing the dinner was ready, took his 
 leave at this moment, after suggesting that he should 
 take Mrs. Wallis out for a little ride in the low 
 wicker-chair that he had picked up a bargain for 
 her two years ago ; and which was kept in the wash- 
 house carefully covered up. 
 
 " That will be a treat to her indeed, Steve," cried 
 old Mary joyfully. " I doubt too she'll get a good 
 night's rest afterwards. You'd like it, Susan ? " 
 
 " I would indeed," said the invalid, smiling wanly. 
 "And after this strengthening bit of dinner I shall 
 feel the benefit too." 
 
 So Stephen stooped his tall head again and went 
 out, greeted by Trixie who was waiting for him 
 outside with extravagant signs of friendship. 
 
 "And what have you been doing with yourself, 
 
?8 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 aunt ? " said the pilot, as the two, or rather the three, 
 sat enjoying their dinner. 
 
 " Oh, all sorts," said Mrs. Fearey cheerfully. " A 
 bit of this, and a bit of that." 
 
 u A bit too much, eh ? " said Stephen. " You look 
 pale and fagged." 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," answered his aunt ; " I had 
 a job on last night that kept me up till past one 
 o'clock. That's apt to make the eyes a bit heavy." 
 
 " What were you doing ? " asked Stephen. " Must 
 have been something uncommon, eh, to keep you 
 out of bed after nine ? " 
 
 " It was a bit of sail-mending up at Carne's," said 
 Mrs. Fearey, smiling thoughtfully to herself as the 
 memory of last night returned. 
 
 " Oh, Carne's. That's the new people." 
 
 " What do you know about the new people ? " 
 asked his aunt surprised. 
 
 Stephen nodded towards the next-door house. 
 " They were speaking about the girl and her father." 
 
 " So's everybody, more's the pity," said Mrs. Fearey. 
 " I thought perhaps you'd heard about them in the 
 village when you said that." 
 
 Stephen shook his head. 
 
 "I came straight," he said, "walked over the downs 
 and along through the village without seeing any 
 one to speak to but the miller." 
 
 " Where was he ? " asked Mrs. Fearey ; " down by 
 the mill-yard ? " 
 
 " No, he was up here in Miser Tewkesbury's 
 garden." 
 
 " In — Miser — Tewkesbury's — garden ! " echoed his 
 aunt, opening her black eyes. " Why, whatever was 
 he doing there ? " 
 
 Stephen laughed. " How should I know?" he said, 
 amused at the old woman's excitement. " As I came 
 round the turn I could see him staring at the cottage, 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 79 
 
 and in at the window. Then he came down the path 
 and met me as I passed the gate." 
 
 " Did he say anything ? " asked Mrs. Fearey in a 
 mysterious tone. 
 
 " He said ' good-morning,' I think," said the pilot. 
 " He looked uncommonly comfortable and prosperous." 
 
 "Ah," said Mrs. Fearey thoughtfully; and she sat 
 absently staring at her plate, when her keen mind 
 jumped to a sudden conclusion about the reason for 
 the miller's interest in Game's cottage. 
 
 " God forbid ! " she exclaimed suddenly. 
 
 Stephen looked at her surprised. 
 
 " God forbid ! " she said again. " For he's a hard 
 man, and his grip is like a steel-trap." 
 
 " What are you talking about, aunt ? " said the pilot, 
 looking at her with his direct clear eyes. 
 
 " Nothing lad, nothing," said little Mrs. Fearey. 
 " I talk so much to myself and Trixie here, I forget 
 sometimes ; don't you take any notice of me." 
 
 " Tell me about these Carnes, aunt," said Stephen, 
 as he lighted his pipe and sat back comfortably in 
 the Windsor chair. 
 
 And Mrs. Fearey told the little story of Esther 
 and her father ; their arrival, and the part the boat 
 took in the business of the mill. She also mentioned 
 the jealousy in the village, though without giving 
 names ; and the climax reached in the damage done 
 to the sails of the stranger barge. 
 
 Stephen whistled. " What a dirty trick ! " he 
 said. 
 
 " They were set on going out just the same," went 
 on Mrs. Fearey, laughing a little at the recollection. 
 
 " Just so," said the pilot, and his square jaw seemed 
 to set a little more square. 
 
 " So we sat up and mended the sails," concluded 
 Mrs. Fearey. 
 
 " And the boat went ? " asked Stephen. 
 
SO 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Oh yes, she went right enough, trust Esther and 
 Michael for that," said the little woman. 
 
 " I'm glad of that," said Stephen quietly, " I'd have 
 done it myself." Then after a moment's pause he 
 said, " Is that all the hands they have aboard ? " 
 
 " Young Dave Occomore," said Mrs. Fearey, gather- 
 ing the plates. 
 
 " I know he goes ; I mean is this man Carne alone 
 with young Dave ?" 
 
 " And the girl, yes," answered Mrs. Fearey. 
 
 The tall pilot smoked thoughtfully. Presently he 
 knocked the ashes out of his pipe and went to fetch 
 the chair for Susan Wallis. The ride proved a great 
 success, the invalid returning with a faint colour, 
 and a happy light in her sad eyes. 
 
 " We been most all the way up the down, and 
 over the shoulder where I could look right over to 
 the Heads," she said quite gaily. " I could see ever 
 so far, miles of sea, — and the air, why it's like wine." 
 
 " Arn't you tired, Steve?" asked old Mary anxiously. 
 
 " Tired," said the big pilot, amused. " Here, Mrs. 
 Wallis, now don't you go trying to walk ; " and lifting 
 the old woman gently he carried her to her chair, and 
 set her down in her place by the fire. 
 
 " God bless you, Steve ! " she said, looking up. 
 " You've given me a treat to think of." 
 
 " You must let me take you out a bit most days 
 while the weather holds, Mrs. Wallis," said the pilot. 
 " Now you have your cup of tea, and you won't know 
 yourself." 
 
 Stephen Weld hurried away to avoid thanks, and 
 a few minutes after was wheeling a barrow-load of 
 freshly-dug potatoes round the cottage to the wash- 
 house, whistling contentedly with Trixie in close 
 attendance. 
 
 Day after day the weather held, and Susan Wallis 
 enjoyed many rides to the downs, to the cliffs along 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 8 1 
 
 the sheltered road to see the cornfields stacked with 
 rich brown sheaves ready for carrying ; and the 
 fretful lines were smoothed around her drawn lips. 
 Often she slept out of doors, resting against the 
 pillow old Mary arranged for her comfort ; slept, 
 with the sea-wind fanning her face, and the cry of 
 the gulls echoing from rock to rock below. 
 
 The potatoes were dug and stored, onions were 
 also dug up and drying on newspapers in the hot 
 sun at the back of the cottages. 
 
 " You leave us nothing to do, Steve/' said Mrs. 
 Fearey, regarding her store with satisfaction. " Baby 
 and me shall grow too fat and lazy." 
 
 The pilot laughed. " You'll never grow lazy, Aunt 
 Fearey, your spirit wouldn't let you." 
 
 Towards the end of the week he found himself 
 almost unconsciously sauntering down to the mill- 
 wharf in the evening with something of expectation 
 in his mind. Almost every day there had been some 
 mention of the Carnes ; he had looked curiously at 
 the pretty little house, and accompanied his aunt 
 in her visit to the bees, who seemed to have made up 
 their minds to patronize their new domain, and give 
 no unnecessary trouble to any one. 
 
 Stephen did not patronize the public-house, com- 
 monly known as The Corner; he was too whole- 
 some a man for excess of any kind ; but he met 
 Durlmouth men on the " slips " and the building-yard, 
 at the mill-quay, and by the bridge, and listened 
 without comment when remarks were dropped about 
 the strange ketch and her owners. A man of few 
 words himself at all times, he did not encourage con- 
 fidences unless they were to other people's advantage. 
 
 Somehow or other no man ever came and spoke 
 evil of, or devised mischief against, a neighbour to 
 Stephen Weld. He had a quiet way of looking at 
 slanderers that silenced evil-speaking. The clearness 
 
 F 
 
82 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 and power in his direct glance seemed to blight 
 tale-bearing, and make the speaker feel small and 
 contemptible. His presence carried a dignity of its 
 own too ; for his height and strength were unusual, 
 his character unblemished, and his word trusted. 
 
 " Brown Bird ought to be up Creek to-night with 
 the miller's corn," said one to another. " There's a 
 fair wind. Top of the flood about six o'clock." 
 
 "Pity she don't sink off the Durl Head," said 
 another. " She wouldn't be missed in Durlmouth." 
 
 There was a rough laugh round the circle, which 
 died out as Stephen Weld looked quietly at the 
 speaker. 
 
 He made no comment, but walked away, and the 
 group he left behind felt uneasy. 
 
 The interest of the pilot had been aroused in the 
 new-comers to an unusual extent, and therefore when 
 the ketch ran in before the wind with her peak 
 lowered, and the afterglow warming her brown sails 
 to a deep red, Stephen was leaning against a buttress 
 of the bridge, waiting. The ketch was well handled, 
 and slipped up to the quay with easy upright motion. 
 A young lad was pulling the jib and foresail down, 
 a tall active man stood by to throw the loop over one 
 of the upright posts, and a girl stood at the helm in 
 an easy attitude one hand on her hip, with the warm 
 light shining full on her sun-touched skin and deep 
 eyes. 
 
 " All right," called the man as the loop landed over 
 the post. There was a little shiver and creak of planks, 
 the swinging peak struck idly against the uneasy 
 sail, and the boat came to a standstill without shock, 
 for she had no weigh on her, so nicely was the distance 
 calculated. Stephen gave a little murmur of approval 
 to himself ; he was watching the girl, who had picked 
 up her hat from the deck, and was smoothing back 
 her hair preparatory to putting it on. Then she 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 83 
 
 stretched herself and laughed. " Oh, I'm so stiff, 
 dad, I'll go home and get tea ; come as soon as 
 you've cleared up. There won't be any unloading 
 to-night ? " 
 
 11 No, not to-night, my girl/' said Michael, who was 
 in a good temper over the prosperous journey. 
 
 " All right then," and Esther jumped ashore ignor- 
 ing any assistance, and calling out " Good-night, 
 Dave ; don't be long, dad," stepped quickly across the 
 quay. 
 
 There were one or two onlookers, besides the usual 
 parties of children that haunted the shore and quays 
 after school and tea ; but Esther passed through them 
 without a glance. Her attitude of indifference was 
 obviously a little artificial to a keen observer, because 
 it was overdone. She was so young, and she wanted 
 to show she did not care. She mounted the slope 
 quickly towards the bridge, and in her haste almost 
 ran against Stephen ; he moved quickly with a murmur 
 of " Pardon, miss," and Esther, perhaps a little startled 
 at the civil tone, turned her head as she gained the 
 road to look back. The stranger was looking after 
 her, and their eyes met. Esther drew herself up and 
 hurried on, vexed at having even appeared to take 
 a moment's interest in a Durlmouth person ; but 
 though she held her head high, and hastened her 
 steps, the eyes she had met in that one backward 
 look dwelt in her mind. Where had she seen that 
 fearless, direct gaze ? Where had she seen that 
 strong, square jaw, and firmly-set, gentle mouth ? It 
 was all quite familiar, and yet, she thought, " I 
 couldn't have met him in Durlmouth." 
 
 As she opened the garden-gate, her eyes wandered 
 to the bees, or rather to their home, for the bees 
 themselves were all asleep ; the train of thought fired 
 her memory. 
 
 " / know," she exclaimed aloud, with a little gesture 
 
84 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 of her quick hands ; " I know ; of course, it was Stephen 
 Weld the pilot." Then after a pause she said, with a 
 little smile, "And he's exactly like his photograph." 
 
 As she lighted a little fire, and set on the kettle, 
 her mind kept recurring to the new face, much to her 
 real annoyance. She set the table for tea and supper 
 combined, and found herself standing at the open 
 door leaning her head on the woodwork, and humming 
 softly to herself as she stared out into the dusk, still 
 thinking. 
 
 Voices in the road and heavy feet disturbed her. 
 People were approaching the gate ; it opened, and 
 some one entered, apparently more than one person, 
 and yet Esther could not see them separately. She 
 made a step forward, and said quickly — 
 
 " Who is it ? Is it you, father ? " 
 
 " All right, my girl," came back Carne's voice, but 
 with a slight effort in it, as speaking in pain. Esther 
 sprang forward and met her father, half carried, wholly 
 supported, by a very tall man. 
 
 " What is it ? " she said, with a quiver in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Don't you worry yourself, miss ; your father slipped 
 on the plank carrying a sack, and he's sprained his 
 ankle, or given it a twist." The voice that spoke was 
 deep and rather slow of utterance. 
 
 Esther looked up at the man's face as he half 
 lifted Carne over the threshold and helped him to a 
 chair, and saw again that it was Stephen Weld. 
 
 Michael was evidently in great pain; his face drawn 
 and colourless. 
 
 Esther fetched the little flask of whisky kept in the 
 sideboard in case of illness and handed him some 
 without a word. After a minute he moved uneasily 
 and then looked up at the pilot, who was standing 
 against the side of the fire-place. 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you for your help," said 
 
STEPHEN WELD COMES HOME 85 
 
 Carne. " It would have taken me half the night to 
 get home, I expect, but for you." 
 
 " I was just passing along on my way to my Aunt 
 Fearey's," said Weld. " I'd seen your boat come in 
 earlier." 
 
 Esther looked up and caught his eyes fixed on her, 
 and in spite of herself and to her own annoyance she 
 blushed. 
 
 " I thought there was to be no unloading to-night, 
 father," she said rather hastily, perhaps to hide a little 
 confusion. 
 
 " I thought there wouldn't be," Carne spoke faintly. 
 " But the miller was set on having some of it in ; so I 
 was carrying a sack, and somehow I slipped, or the 
 plank slipped. It would have been all right if I 
 hadn't tried to save the sack, it was on my shoulders, 
 and I thought it would be in the water next minute. 
 I suppose that was what did it ; I got a wrench." 
 
 " When I found him he was pretty near crawling," 
 said Stephen ; " getting over the ground somehow." 
 
 " I suppose none of them offered to help you, father, 
 I mean down there at the mill ? " said Esther fiercely. 
 
 - Oh they, no. Besides I wouldn't have taken their 
 help, anyway." 
 
 The pilot looked quietly from father to daughter, 
 and Esther dropped her eyes with a faint sense of 
 vexation as she met the direct surprise of the look. 
 
 " Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Carne ? 
 Shall I carry you up to bed ? " 
 
 " Oh no, thank you all the same. I'll be all right. 
 Esther will bathe it, and tie it up, and like enough I 
 shall be pretty right in the morning." 
 
 " Shall I fetch a doctor?" asked Stephen dubiously ; 
 he was disturbed at the sharp evidences of pain in 
 Carne's drawn features. 
 
 "Doctor, no," the master of Brown Bird laughed 
 scornfully. u I don't hold much with doctors' stuff. 
 
86 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Oh, you needn't worry about me ; as soon as the 
 swelling goes down I shall be all right again." 
 
 " Well, good-night then," said Stephen, " if there's 
 nothing I can do." At the door he paused and looked 
 back at Esther, who made a step forward. "If there 
 should be anything I can do, you'll let me know. 
 I'm living up at Aunt Fearey's, next door to Mrs. 
 Richards : you know them ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; Mrs. Fearey has been very good to me," 
 and Esther smiled, her own peculiar quick smile that 
 seemed to light the whole face with a sunny flash. 
 
 " Good-night," said the pilot again, and bending 
 his head under the door-frame he disappeared into 
 the dusk. 
 
 Esther shut the door. And for the next hour she 
 was busy, bathing and then bandaging the rapidly 
 swelling foot ; then having wrapt it in oiled skin and 
 flannel, she enticed her father to a cup of tea, though 
 he could not eat anything. 
 
 Later on, with the help of Esther and the stair-rail, 
 he tried to get up-stairs ; but fainted with pain. 
 Esther was frightened though she did not show it. 
 
 " Never mind," she said cheerfully, supporting him 
 as he came to himself with a faint sigh, " the sofa is 
 first-rate. I'll make you a bed on the sofa by the 
 fire. It will be much better not to try at all to go up 
 and down for a week." 
 
 The old couch under the window was drawn up in 
 no time. And Esther fetched bed-clothes and pillow, 
 drew the curtains, cleared up, and made all com- 
 fortable. She helped her father to undress, and 
 felt a sense of relief as he lay down with a sigh of 
 exhaustion. 
 
 " Is that better, dad?" she asked anxiously, bending 
 over him. 
 
 Carne opened his eyes and looked at the beautiful 
 face and eyes of pity. 
 
 I 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 87 
 
 "Yes, my girl, yes," he said with effort, "fine and 
 comfortable ; don't you fret now : go to bed." 
 
 But Esther did not go to bed, she waited till a 
 fitful slumber seemed to seize on her father, and then 
 went up-stairs and lay on her bed, stealing down 
 every little while to see how he was. 
 
 Towards morning she found him with wide-open 
 eyes, tossing restlessly. 
 
 u Is it worse, dad ? " she asked, seeing him awake 
 when she stole in on stockinged feet. 
 
 " It's pretty bad," said Carne grimly. " But that's 
 not what I'm worrying about, not the pain, I mean. 
 It's how this Durlmouth set will be chuckling to think 
 I'm laid up. Mr. Emmett promised me the run to 
 Salterne with the flour, and Haynes wanted the job 
 too." 
 
 " Haynes shan't have the job," said Esther quietly, 
 bringing down her black brows in an ominous line. 
 
 " I can't help his getting it now," said Carne rest- 
 lessly. " I know, as sure as paint, that this foot is a 
 long job ; and the flour must go out in a week." 
 
 " It shall go out in a week," said Esther, with calm 
 decision. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' AND HER MISTRESS 
 
 lO the fevered mind of Michael Carne his 
 daughter's assurance carried conviction. 
 He did not pause to ask how she could 
 perform the promise ! He dozed fitfully, 
 waking to acute pain and discomfort, but 
 
 saying to himself that it would be all right about the 
 
 job, Esther said so. 
 
88 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Meanwhile, Esther herself had not made the 
 assurance without a fixed purpose in her mind. To 
 her, opposition and difficulties were usually an incen- 
 tive. Esther, like most people, knew herself very 
 little indeed; and did not realize the great possibilities 
 for good and evil in her own nature. She said some- 
 times that she " hated to be beaten " ; but she did not 
 understand that this dislike of defeat was a sign of 
 fierce tenacity and strength of will that at present 
 ruled her in the absence of any greater power ; and 
 would ultimately lead her to noble development or 
 the reverse, according to the motive power it should 
 be moved by. Or, to put it perhaps more simply, at 
 present she wanted things done because it was her 
 will to do them ; not because they were right, or 
 because of any great guiding principle, for Esther had 
 at present hardly even wakened to an active conscious- 
 ness of such things. Her noble nature gave her true 
 instincts, her sense of honour was clear — unusually so 
 for a woman ; but she had not even wakened up to a 
 sense that renunciation and submission are the great 
 factors for God's work in living souls. 
 
 For the next day or two she went quietly about her 
 work, attending assiduously to her father's foot, with- 
 out apparently much result for the better. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey came in early the following morning 
 and added her advice to Stephen's that a doctor should 
 be summoned ; but Michael was obstinate. " You're 
 making a great mistake, Mr. Carne," said Mrs. Fearey, 
 sitting down on the edge of a chair with her small 
 hands tightly clasped in her lap. 
 
 Michael made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " I know my own business, ma'am, I suppose, and I 
 don't ask to interfere with other people's." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey made no angry retort, her sympathy 
 was too large ; and her quick insight led her to see so 
 clearly the workings of other minds. 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 89 
 
 " Ah well, we must all please ourselves," she said 
 gaily. " For the rest, we live and learn, and nobody 
 can teach another till the Almighty takes them in 
 hand Himself," she added under her breath. 
 
 " If there is anything I can do tell me, my dear ; but 
 I shan't bother you with visits while your father feels 
 so restless. It must be a blow to him to have to give 
 up just when he seemed to be doing so well with the 
 miller." She spoke on the doorstep, and dropped her 
 voice with a little gesture towards the couch. 
 
 " Oh, that will be all right," said Esther, M he shan't 
 give up the job. Brown Bird will go to Salterne with 
 the flour early next week." 
 
 "Go — to Salterne — with that foot." Mrs. Fearey 
 raised her voice a little in her surprise. 
 
 Michael Carne turned his head. 
 
 " What's that ? " he asked irritably. 
 
 Esther's quiet voice answered with a peculiar ring 
 of decision, " Mrs. Fearey was surprised when I said 
 Brown Bird was off to Salterne early in the week." 
 
 " Aye, aye, she's off, sure enough. We're not going 
 to be beaten by this Durlmouth lot," and Carne turned 
 over restlessly on his side, his dark eyes bright with a 
 feverish light. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey wisely made no more comments, but 
 trotted off with a cheerful good-bye ; when she got 
 out into the road, however, she shook her head 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Those poor dears are taking the wrong road,Trixie, 
 boy," she said to the old dog. " Ah, dear, it's a bitter 
 road too. Once people take to that sort of thing it 
 hurts themselves more than anybody else. ' Love one 
 another,' the dear Lord said, ' love your enemies, bless 
 them that curse you.' Tisn't easy, is it, boy ? — as you 
 found when the yellow dog up Corner wouldn't let you 
 be ; but you minded mother's words, and here you 
 are." The old dog rubbed his grey nose against her 
 
90 * THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 hand. " Oh dear, oh dear, if people only would attend 
 to the blessed words, they'd find it so much the better 
 for them : they can't go wrong. Fly in the face of 
 them, and you'll meet the sting of it some day when 
 you can't get away. Stick to them, and you'll grow 
 to bless the day you gave up your own will." 
 
 " What's the matter, Aunt Fearey ? " said a deep 
 voice, and the little woman suddenly found her 
 impetuous trot checked. 
 
 "Oh, nothing, dear lad, nothing. I was only just 
 having a talk with Trixie here. We mostly have a 
 word to say to each other when we're out." 
 
 " How is Carne's foot ? " asked the pilot, as he turned 
 and walked homewards by her side, Trixie pressing in 
 between with stiff gait and supreme content. 
 
 " Esther says he'll be well enough to take out the 
 ketch early in the week." Mrs. Fearey tried to speak 
 as though she were not surprised at her own news. 
 
 " Oh," said the pilot ; then after a pause, " It'll be a 
 quick mend if he does." 
 
 " It will indeed," said the little woman, and the 
 matter ended, for Mrs. Fearey did not believe in 
 discussing her neighbour's affairs to any one, not even 
 to her nearest and dearest. 
 
 The village was greatly interested in the report of 
 Michael Carne's accident. He had been seen to slip 
 in saving the sack, and to crawl away homewards 
 with greatest difficulty. Certain people were in- 
 different, but some were jubilant. " Down Corner " 
 it was agreed that the miller was punished for his 
 patronage of the foreigners. 
 
 " He'll have to wait now, and serve him right," was 
 the general opinion. 
 
 Mr. Emmett heard the report and was annoyed. 
 He recognized an undercurrent of satisfaction in his 
 man's demeanour. 
 
 " Go up to Tewkesbury's cottage before dinner, 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 9 1 
 
 Saunders, and ask if Brown Bird is going over on 
 Tuesday with the flour. It's no use loading her if she 
 can't go." 
 
 Saunders touched his cap as the miller turned into 
 his house, and went on the errand with more alacrity 
 than he had done before. 
 
 The door opened at once to his knock, but not wide, 
 and Esther's tall figure stood between the miller's 
 man and the interior of the kitchen. 
 
 " Did you want anything ?" she asked, and there was 
 a defiance in her whole manner, very different from 
 the friendly sincere glance that had greeted him on 
 his former visit. 
 
 " Mr. Emmett wants to know if Carne can take out 
 Brown Bird on Tuesday with the flour for Salterne ; 
 because if not it's no use loading her." 
 
 " Certainly," said Esther in her hardest tones. 
 " Please tell Mr. Emmett we shall be quite ready on 
 Tuesday." 
 
 Saunders' countenance fell. 
 
 " I thought your father was too bad to go," he said 
 unguardedly. 
 
 " Oh, did you," answered the girl, lowering her 
 black brows as she looked straight at her visitor. 
 " Well, you are mistaken, you see," and she shut the 
 door. 
 
 " In my very face," as Saunders said to his angry 
 wife afterwards. 
 
 " That's all right," was the miller's reply to Esther's 
 message ; he had great faith in Carne's ability to keep 
 his word, and dismissed the question at once for other 
 business. 
 
 The loading of the ketch proceeded ; but at the 
 same time the report gained ground that Michael 
 Carne was very ill. He had not been seen yet. 
 Young Dave Occomore was always on the boat, and 
 Esther came down to speak to him now and again. 
 
92 ' THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 To eager inquiries he answered that Esther said 
 Brown Bird was going over with the flood late on 
 Tuesday night. He hadn't seen Carne himself; he 
 hadn't been up to the cottage ; but of course the boat 
 couldn't go without the master. Therefore when 
 Esther came down on Monday, just a week after her 
 father's accident, she found the boy dubious and full 
 of questions. 
 
 " Mr. Emmett, he's been down looking round, 
 wanting to know if I'd seen the master." 
 
 " Don't you trouble, Dave," said Esther quietly, "the 
 master knows what he's about." 
 
 " There's the miller, coming out of the mill now, 
 talking to Mr. Saunders," said the boy. 
 
 " All right," said Esther, " I'll go and speak to him," 
 and she crossed the plank and walked along the 
 quay to meet the master of the mill. 
 
 Mr. Emmett looked at the tall, dignified figure of 
 the girl as she approached, and guessed at once who 
 she was. 
 
 " Are you Esther Carne ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 Esther looked at him quietly ; her eyes were on a 
 level with his, for the miller was not tall for a man. 
 
 " Yes, I am," she said. 
 
 " I'm glad to speak to you," said Mr. Emmett, 
 instinctively taking a tone of more respect. " I hope 
 your father is better." 
 
 " He's very well, thank you, sir," answered the girl. 
 
 " Oh, I'm glad to hear it. I was a little anxious 
 about the flour. I could have made a shift and sent 
 it by the wagons, but the sea journey is a good bit 
 more direct, as you know." 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 " I was beginning to think we should have to unload 
 your boat again, from what I had heard, and that 
 would have been a serious loss of time." 
 
 " People talk a lot of nonsense," said Esther 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 93 
 
 calmly. "We shall take the boat out to-morrow 
 night with the flood, and be at Salterne in the early 
 morning. You needn't worry about the flour, sir." 
 
 " Oh — er, thank you," said the miller. 
 
 As the girl left him and went back to the boat to 
 speak to David, the miller was conscious of surprise 
 at his own feelings. He had even been nervous in 
 the presence of this girl, daughter of a barge-owner 
 employed by himself. And as he sauntered back to 
 his house the memory of the fearless look of the deep 
 brown eyes from beneath the long black brows 
 haunted him, and he found himself saying to himself, 
 " What a fine woman ! — a mind too ; plenty of pluck 
 there. Carne's a lucky fellow to have such a daughter ; 
 she's not like ordinary girls." And the thought 
 stayed in his mind, returning again and again that 
 Esther Carne was not like other girls. As Esther 
 herself walked back home she was not thinking of the 
 miller but of the weather. All day the wind had 
 been rising, blowing gustily from the south-west. A 
 thought struck her, and she turned into the winding 
 path that crawled up the steep incline to the coast- 
 guard station that stood poised on the very summit 
 of the point of rock forming the westward side of the 
 horse-shoe entrance. 
 
 At the top the wind was strong, and banks of cloud 
 were driving up from the south-west. The flag was 
 beating out with quivering buffets, and the long ropes 
 of the flagstaff shivered as the wind wailed through 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Newman, the chief boatman, was looking sea- 
 wards through his glass. 
 
 " It's windy," said Esther timidly, for the head of 
 the coastguard was rather a great personage. He 
 lowered the glass and looked at her. 
 
 " Your ketch is going out to-morrow, isn't she ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the girl, " is it going to be bad ? " 
 
94 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Not a regular gale, a bit of a blow, though; there's 
 a good bit more to come. But you'll be all right 
 enough ; the wind's pretty near fair for you if it's 
 Salterne you're going to, and round the Head it will 
 be smooth enough too." 
 
 " Thank you," said Esther gratefully. She liked 
 this quiet man with grey beard and deep eyes that 
 seemed to be sunk in sockets carved sharp by the 
 restless buffets of the storm winds. 
 
 " How is your father?" said the chief boatman, as 
 she turned away, suddenly remembering that Michael 
 Carne had met with an accident. 
 
 " Oh, thank you " answered Esther ; then with a 
 
 slight hesitation she added, " His foot will soon be all 
 right, we think." 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Newman, raising his glass again and 
 turning it on a scrap of wind-tossed sail that was 
 leaping and staggering out of the grey sea far away 
 down by the Black Bill. " Don't you let him use it 
 too much at first." 
 
 Esther took one more look at the sea, and with her 
 lips pressed together, ran down the rocky winding 
 path, reaching the sheltered valley, breathless. 
 
 " Who would think there was such a wind up 
 there ? " she thought, looking back at the cliffs. " Dad 
 won't know, that's one comfort." 
 
 Carne was restless and irritable ; his foot was in 
 constant pain, and quite useless. If the swelling had 
 succumbed a little to Esther's care, the pain did not 
 abate. She could not keep him quiet entirely; though 
 he still remained down-stairs, he made shift to drag 
 himself here and there with the help of a stick and 
 furniture, only to lie down again with groans of pain. 
 
 To-night he was unusually restless and anxious, 
 following Esther with eyes deeply sunk by wakeful 
 nights, and muttering to himself in worried tones 
 every now and then — 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 95 
 
 " I don't half like it." 
 
 " Look here, dad," said Esther gaily, " I won't 
 have you worry one bit more. Now I'm going to 
 bathe your foot, and you really must rest ; remember 
 it will be much more difficult if you are ill, and you 
 know you don't mean to give it up ; / wouldn't, even 
 if you would." 
 
 Tuesday morning found Esther cleaning early. 
 Every corner was swept out and scrubbed, and all 
 things necessary for use brought into the front-room 
 and carefully arranged to be handy. A box was 
 filled with coal and set near the hearth, with little 
 sticks broken for kindling. The kettle was filled, the 
 water-can and a large jug from up-stairs set in the 
 corner ready, filled with water. Food enough for 
 several days was put in the front-room cupboard. 
 Bacon for rashers, eggs and butter, bread and tea. 
 
 " I can't think of anything else," said Esther, stand- 
 ing still to look round after her exertions. Her eyes 
 were bright, and there was a feverish spot on each 
 cheek. 
 
 Carne lay still, watching her. 
 
 " Isn't the wind rising ? " he asked uneasily. 
 
 " An August blow," said Esther calmly. " You 
 musn't look at the sky, dad ; it's going to rain, that's 
 nothing." She was too busy and excited to think of 
 Mrs. Fearey, and was really glad that the little woman 
 did not pay them a visit, or send Stephen, as it would 
 not have suited her purpose to ask any one in ; yet 
 as the afternoon waned her heart misgave her, and she 
 knelt down by the sofa and looked anxiously in her 
 father's face. 
 
 " Dad, are you sure you'll be all right ? " 
 
 "What's to hinder?" said Carne. " I'm all right, 
 my girl, it's you I'm thinking of." 
 
 "Shall I go and ask Mrs. Fearey to come and 
 look after you ? " went on Esther restlessly. 
 
g6 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Carne shook his head positively. 
 
 " Dear, no ; what good would she be ? I hate a 
 strange woman meddling about my place." 
 
 " Remember, dad, I shall send you a telegram ; it 
 will cost something, all the way from Durlstone, that's 
 the nearest. I believe it's half-a-crown ; shall you 
 mind?" 
 
 " Shall I mind," said Michael impatiently. Then 
 he suddenly drew the lovely face, bent towards him, 
 nearer with both his hands, and kissed the broad 
 forehead tenderly. 
 
 " I doubt I'm mad to let you do it, Esther," he said, 
 and the girl saw the shine of tears in his sad eyes. 
 
 "Dad, dad," she cried coaxingly, "you wouldn't 
 think anything about it if you were well. It's just 
 staying in and getting no sleep that seems to make 
 you see things in a dark light. Now just think how 
 often I've done as much. It's spring tides — all in 
 our favour, for the wind's so fair that I can get out 
 before the flood. There'll be a splendid moon." 
 
 " You'll never see the moon with the clouds driving 
 up like this." 
 
 " I shall!' said Esther. " Clouds blow over ; it's 
 only gusty ; we've got the mainsail reefed ; we shall 
 fly down. And, after all, what's the distance ; a mile or 
 two only just round Durl Head and we shall be in a 
 mill-pond." 
 
 Carne sighed. 
 
 Presently he said, " Take some brandy or whisky, 
 my girl, with you ; mayn't want it, but you may. 
 Steering free is heavy work when the sea's rising, 
 especially after an hour or two." 
 
 "All right, I'll fill the little flask," said Esther, 
 "but I shan't want it." 
 
 There was silence as the girl searched for the little 
 flask, and filled it, packing it afterwards with one or 
 two necessaries in a small fish-basket. 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 97 
 
 Supper was a very dismal meal, in spite of Esther's 
 lively talk and persistent gaiety. 
 
 She had allowed it to be generally reported that 
 the Brown Bird would start at ten o'clock, the very 
 turn of the high spring tide. Outside, it was true, 
 the tide would be against them for an eastward 
 journey, for a time. But that difficulty would be 
 equalized by a strong wind in her favour ; and they 
 had calculated that the sweep of the tide in the great 
 bay between Black Rock Bill and Durl Head would 
 only have the effect of keeping Brown Bird well out 
 to sea, and thus minimizing the danger of the wind 
 blowing straight on shore. Esther had argued it all 
 from most favourable points of view. 
 
 " By the time she rounds Durl Head, you see, we 
 shall begin to get the flood again outside, and that 
 will carry her right up finely, and take us into 
 Salterne on the top of the tide there, just what we 
 want, dad." She was very convincing in her argu- 
 ments, her bright eyes were so reassuring, and her 
 smile so gay, that even Carne's worn face relaxed and 
 the bitter lines round his mouth melted into some- 
 thing like a smile. 
 
 At half-past eight the dusk had fallen. There had 
 been little sun all day, and sunset seemed to have taken 
 place an hour earlier from the light, or want of light. 
 11 1 want to slip out about nine, dad," said Esther, 
 coming up to the couch and arranging the coverlet 
 and pillow ; her hands trembled a little. 
 
 "Yes, my girl, yes. I mustn't keep you." He 
 raised himself on one arm and threw the other 
 round her ; he was breathing quickly. 
 
 " Dad, have you got everything you can think of? " 
 as Michael dropped back on the pillow turning his 
 face slightly away. Esther looked at him a moment, 
 and then went quickly out of the room, shutting the 
 door carefully, but not locking it outside. 
 
 G 
 
98 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 A minute passed in absolute stillness, only broken 
 by the busy ticking of Esther's little alarum clock. 
 
 Then the door opened gently and Esther's voice 
 said, full of gaiety and assurance — 
 
 " It's splendid out, dad ; the wind is not a bit too 
 strong, only just what we want. Good-night, dear 
 dad ; look for the telegram in the morning," and she 
 was gone again. 
 
 Carne had started up as he heard her voice, but 
 before he could speak she was gone, and he lay back 
 comforted. 
 
 Esther ran down the path, and shut the gate 
 behind her, careful to latch it against the buffets of 
 the wind. Even down there, in the valley, the gusts 
 shook the little gates, and bent the fruit-trees in the 
 gardens. A wet sleet flew in front of the storm, 
 hardly rain, but penetrating and blinding. 
 
 " I expect it's pretty bad on the cliff," thought 
 Esther, but her heart was not daunted. " We shall 
 do all right ; what a run it will be ! " and she laughed 
 a little. 
 
 No one was about. The evening was not tempting, 
 and Esther passed quickly along between the hedges 
 without meeting a soul. Down the road, turn after 
 turn, past the twinkle of the lights in cottage 
 windows, over the bridge and on to the quiet quay. 
 The mill was dark and silent, locked up; but lights 
 shone behind the neat blinds of the miller's house 
 across the road. 
 
 Brown Bird was moored stem and stern against 
 the piles, her mainsail up and pressing hard against 
 the mast, while the lowered peak swung heavily every 
 now and then as the wind played with it in boisterous 
 fits and starts. Jib and foresail were half up, and 
 shivered on the halliards with the pressure. 
 
 A little further down the quay another ketch was 
 moored, a light shining from the cuddy-door into the 
 
THE FLIGHT OF 'BROWN BIRD' 99 
 
 well, showing that some one was on board. Esther 
 knew it was the disappointed Queen of England^ and 
 she laughed a little to herself as she sprang on board 
 her own boat. 
 
 " Dave," she called out quickly ; " here, sharp as you 
 like, cast off in the bows." 
 
 The boy, who was tidying up, sprang forward on 
 hearing her voice, without paying much attention to 
 the source from whom the order proceeded. 
 
 Esther cast off the stern-mooring and seized the helm 
 at the same time ; the stern of the ketch swung out 
 into the stream under the pressure of the mainsail. 
 
 " Quick, Dave, up with the jib and foresail ; leave 
 the peak till we get down/' Esther called above the 
 rattle of ropes and creak of timbers, but not loudly. 
 
 Brown Bird drifted heavily down towards the other 
 boat ; she did not obey the helm immediately, having 
 no way on her and being forced round by the big 
 mainsail. 
 
 Esther set her lips and watched the sails, feeling for 
 the first sensation of life in the ketch, which she knew 
 must come in a moment ; the only question was would 
 it come soon enough to avert a collision, which would 
 bring up the other ketch's crew from below and cause 
 them to notice what the girl wished to hide. 
 
 " Hurrah ! there she comes, beauty ; there's no boat 
 like her," murmured Esther, as she felt the hull under 
 her feet right itself and pull against the helm. " What 
 a shave ! " and she laughed a little, gaily, with her eyes 
 fixed on the mainsail which must not gibe at this 
 critical moment. 
 
 The long low hull of Brown Bird swept down 
 within a few inches of her rival, lower in the water 
 because she was loaded, but clever and quick as ever 
 now she felt the pressure of her front sails. A dark 
 form appeared against the light, as a man came up 
 from the cuddy of the other barge. 
 
100 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Hullo ! " said a voice. 
 
 " Hullo ! " answered young Dave from his station 
 forward, and in another minute Brown Bird plunged 
 into darkness ahead, going steadily and full of life. 
 
 Young Dave coiled the ropes into their accustomed 
 neat positions and then came aft to await orders. 
 
 " Hullo! " he said, seeing Esther standing at the helm. 
 "Where's the master?" 
 
 Esther paused a moment while she bent her eyes on 
 the dim shift of the passing darkness, then she said — 
 u The master's at home.'* 
 
 Dave whistled ; a whistle expressive of amazement 
 and dismay. 
 
 " Well," said Esther calmly. " you're not afraid to go 
 without him, are you ? " 
 
 11 Afraid" young Dave Occomore echoed the word 
 with the placid scorn of a British lad for any doubt on 
 his courage. "But are you really going to take her 
 alone, Esther ? " 
 
 " With you, yes ; that's just what I am going to do." 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 'BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE 
 
 H ATEVER this son and grandson of brave 
 pilots thought, he said little to the girl's 
 announcement. Seeing that Esther Carne, 
 a girl but three years older than himself, 
 was ready to make the attempt, he would 
 have been drowned rather than express doubt. At the 
 same time he was seaman enough to be well aware 
 of the risk they ran, and the lively probability that 
 neither of them would see Durlmouth again. 
 
'BROWN BIRD FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE IOI 
 
 " Shall I get the peak up now ? " he asked indiffer- 
 ently. " It will be heavier outside." 
 
 Esther nodded. " We can always let it down if 
 there is too much sail on." 
 
 " There won't be that," said the boy. " She'll want 
 all we've got, I fancy, running." 
 
 Esther nodded again ; she knew quite well what 
 he meant ; the danger there would be of pooping 
 from the following seas, low as they were in the 
 water. 
 
 Putting the helm away Esther stayed the flight of 
 the ketch, bringing her up in the wind to get the 
 pressure off the mainsail as the peak went up with a 
 succession of strong hauls. She was getting accus- 
 tomed to the darkness, and beginning to realize that 
 they were really off; her spirits rose to the occasion, 
 and the sense of power was exhilarating. 
 
 All boats were safely housed. " No one but Michael 
 Carne and his daughter would have troubled to go 
 out on such a night," said the Durlmouth men when 
 they strolled down later to see the start, and found 
 the Brown Bird flown. " Girl was steering too, so far as 
 I could see," said Haynes' hand. " But there wasn't 
 hardly time to see, she was gone too quick." 
 
 " They'll have a nice run," said a man who had been 
 up to the coast-guard station. " It's dirty as can be, 
 coming up for the night, but it'll likely enough blow 
 out by morning." 
 
 "Well, it's their business, if they choose to sink 
 themselves and the boat to please Miller Emmett," 
 said Haynes. " /wouldn't have gone out such a night; 
 job or no job." 
 
 And so said every one, strolling back to cosy homes 
 and sheltered chimney-corners, while the wind rose 
 steadily, crying down the valley like human voices ; 
 dropping to deathly stillness only to wake into a 
 mad bout of roars and buffets, snaking the doors, 
 
102 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 moaning in the chimneys, and playing havoc with the 
 tidy gardens. 
 
 Young Dave hauled in the mainsheet, as the ketch 
 swept through the outer basin making for the great 
 rock gateway ; and as the big mainsail drew in, 
 Esther realized the force of the wind. Sheltered as 
 they were, even here the roar of the waves sounded 
 ominous ; and the booming of the wind in the horse- 
 shoe of the downs made the immediate stillness under 
 the towering height of the western cliff the more 
 awesome. 
 
 Esther had to let the mainsail gibe for the outward 
 plunge, and for a moment or two there was rattling 
 and beating of ropes and sails, then with foresails 
 neatly set and mainsail free the Brown Bird breasted 
 the angry mass of water forcing into the basin ; and 
 setting her nose towards the tumbling confusion 
 outside rushed through the cliff gateway. 
 
 Esther drew her breath as the wind caught them. 
 The heavy ketch heeled over, and the water rushed 
 up the gun'l. It seemed as though they would be 
 blown down on to the eastward rocks at once for a 
 minute ; but the stout boat was not so easily beaten. 
 She recovered herself, and the terrible leeway drift 
 modified. Young Dave came up to Esther keeping 
 his feet with difficulty. 
 
 "Don't trouble about that" he jerked his head 
 towards the towering blackness to leeward. " The 
 tide'll keep us off of them. She'll feel it directly." 
 
 Esther smiled and nodded bravely. Her nostrils 
 were dilated with the spirit of battle, and her mouth 
 set in a hard line. 
 
 Out and out they drove ; turning a point and a 
 point more off the wind, and heading away towards 
 the far-away eastern horn of the great outside bay. 
 
 The darkness was distracting because it was so 
 uncertain. Dense clouds covered the moon, and the 
 
'brown bird' fights for her life 103 
 
 misty rain mingled with flying spray seemed to 
 thicken the atmosphere into a wall of beating water. 
 
 Esther had on her father's oilskin coat and the 
 sou'-wester tied down over her ears ; her eyes looked 
 out from under the peak fierce and resolute. Presently 
 she said — 
 
 "If the moon would come out it would be a bit 
 more cheerful, Dave." 
 
 The boy laughed grimly. 
 
 "We musn't look for cheerfulness this side the 
 Head/' he said ; " but it would be a blessing if we 
 could see something of what we're about." 
 
 Further and further out lashed the Brown Bird, 
 plunging through the mad waves with a curious solid 
 strength ; so unlike the leap of a well-built yacht. 
 The waves washed and swirled oyer her deck forwards, 
 and beat on her beam with thunderous buffets. 
 
 " Keep her away a bit more now," shouted Dave ; 
 "we don't want to get too far out, and the tide's 
 strong." 
 
 " I shall steer for the light on the Head," said 
 Esther, " I can just see it." 
 
 For a time again there was silence. They were 
 running free, and the motion was easier, but as Carne 
 had prophesied, the steering was a great strain. The 
 heavy boat swooped and leapt from side to side, under 
 the pressure of her mainsail ; a ceaseless vigilance and 
 strength was necessary in handling the tiller. The 
 arms of a strong man feel it ; then how much more 
 those of a girl, even though well-used to the sea ? 
 Young Dave observed this. 
 
 " Let me take her," he said, coming close to Esther's 
 side. 
 
 She smiled at him but shook her head. 
 
 " You'll be done," said the boy. 
 
 Esther looked down at her stiff wrists, then she 
 said — 
 
104 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 " Hold on a minute, Dave ; you can help me, but I 
 daren't leave it," and the two young things faced the 
 battle together, while the tiller sprang and jerked 
 under their strong hands like a live creature trying to 
 escape. 
 
 Half-an-hour passed and a thin streak of white 
 light struggled through the chaos above unto the mad 
 scene below. 
 
 " Hurrah for the old moon ! " said Dave, letting go 
 the tiller a moment to rub his stiffened hands. Esther 
 looked round. All this time her eyes had been fixed 
 steadily on the light, which cast out a beam that could 
 be seen for many miles to the salvation of storm- 
 driven ships ; now, as she looked round, the full force 
 and danger of their position broke upon her. 
 
 The farther out they drew, so much did the size of 
 the following waves increase. In the bay the rush 
 and tumble had been furious ; but out farther, where 
 they must go to pass the Head, black mountains 
 seemed to shut out the horizon. The denseness of 
 the atmosphere had before prevented her from seeing 
 how the sea had risen, but now that the struggling 
 moon threw a faint light on the wild scene, the 
 difficulty of the position flashed into Esther's mind. 
 
 The Brown Bird was going well, but she was laden, 
 and therefore low in the water. The reefed mainsail 
 presented a comparatively small surface in proportion 
 to the weight of the broad hull. 
 
 Esther glanced at Dave ; he was looking back at 
 the hungry rush of the black hills behind them with 
 knitted brows. He met her eyes, and said — 
 
 " It's the flood running out against the wind that's 
 knocking up this sea." 
 
 Esther nodded, she was thinking deeply ; suddenly 
 she said in a quiet matter-of-fact tone, bending to- 
 wards him so that her words might not be blown 
 away — 
 
'BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE 105 
 
 " If I put her up in the wind, can you let the reef 
 out ? " 
 
 Dave started back at the girl. 
 
 " You can't ! Supposing she don't come round quick 
 enough, we'll be swamped in the trough." 
 
 " She will come round," answered Esther. Her eyes 
 were shining, and her mouth hard, she looked ten years 
 older. 
 
 Dave shrugged his shoulders uneasily. 
 
 By a common instinct the two looked back, and in 
 that instant they both saw that Esther's suggestion 
 was their only chance. 
 
 A wall of black water was racing up on their track, 
 the broken edge silhouetted against the lesser black- 
 ness of the night ; the piles of wind-driven cloud 
 racing above parted again, and a watery streak of 
 light fell on the enemy pursuing. 
 
 " Hold on ! "cried Dave in a suppressed voice, clutch- 
 ing at the girl's arm ; it seemed impossible that the low 
 stern could survive the breaking of the black wall that 
 seemed to overhang it. 
 
 Brown Bird shivered and struggled as the water 
 struck her. Had the wave fallen as it appeared to be 
 going to fall, the struggle would have ended out there 
 in the dreary wilderness of furious elements ; but, after 
 the manner of waves following, much of it seemed to 
 sweep under and round the stern, and this saved them. 
 
 Esther gasped as the drenching water struck her, 
 pouring along the deck and nearly carrying her off 
 her feet. Dave shook himself like a big dog, and 
 growled a low exclamation. 
 
 *' We must do it," said Esther. 
 
 " Will the mast stand it ? " asked Dave, looking up 
 at the big spar that creaked and cried under the strain. 
 
 " Oh yes ? Besides we can't help it if it doesn't," 
 and Esther smiled a little grim smile. "Now then, 
 Dave, stand by to haul on the mainsheet, and then 
 
106 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 pull the foresail over. Don't let's think about it; the 
 quicker it's done the better; there's not quite such 
 a sea now for a minute, that was the seventh 
 wave." 
 
 Setting her teeth, she forced the helm hard down ; 
 and for one moment or two the issue was uncertain. 
 Was the reefed mainsail sufficient motive power to 
 force round the heavy boat ? 
 
 Dave hauled in the sheet steadily, and Brown Bird 
 swooped round on her course ; then for a minute 
 nearly she lay over, gun'l under, while Esther kept 
 her feet only by a miracle, and heaving water seemed 
 to shut out the sky and turn the world into a succession 
 of shifting mountains ready to swallow them or batter 
 them out of existence. 
 
 Esther did not pray in that supreme moment of 
 danger ; she ground her strong teeth together, and 
 summoned all the strength of her powerful frame. 
 
 And Brown Bird did not fail her mistress. One 
 moment it seemed as though she would let herself go 
 and drift unanswering to the helm ; and then, righting 
 with a bound, she swept up in the eye of the wind, and 
 shaking off the weight of water faced her enemy with 
 level deck, but every sail and rope tearing at its hold- 
 ings in a babel of uproar that seemed to overpower 
 even the roar of the wind. 
 
 In a moment Dave had the mainsheet firmly fast- 
 ened, and the jib and foresail drawn taut opposite 
 ways ; then he came back to Esther, — she was lashing 
 the helm. 
 
 " I'll leave this, and help you," she said. Her voice 
 trembled, and Dave saw that her face was quite 
 colourless, while two tears rolled slowly over her 
 cheeks before she had time to brush them away. 
 There were no more tears ; she was not crying, and 
 answered the boy's questioning look with her own 
 sudden smile ; but it gave him a quick insight into 
 
'BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE 107 
 
 the tension of responsibility that had pressed on her 
 in those few minutes. 
 
 Dangerous as their position was, there was a relief 
 in facing the pursuing battalions of angry waves, and 
 seeing them race along their sides, while the sharp 
 bows rose at their buffets, and the long hull rode 
 steadily. 
 
 Together the boy and girl unfastened the reefs and 
 shook them out. 
 
 " Let it alone," said Dave ; " you'll knock your 
 fingers to pieces, Esther ; the sail is none too pleasant 
 to handle after this soaking." 
 
 " My fingers arn't like a fine lady's," said Esther, 
 laughing, as she clutched the restless, pitching boom. 
 " I wish this thing would stand still half a second." 1 
 
 " Can't very well expect that," said Dave, who was 
 of a matter-of-fact disposition. " We must look alive 
 over this job, the tide's carrying us out." 
 
 " I'll lend a hand hauling it up," said Esther, as the 
 lashings near the mast were loosed. " It will be too 
 heavy for one." 
 
 A critical moment was at hand, as they both knew, 
 and Esther watched the sea and waited for even a 
 pause in the wind, or lessening in the fury of the 
 waves. 
 
 It seemed to come, and she gave the word to David. 
 Over came the foresail. Brown Bird swayed over 
 from the wind and heeled away to leeward. Then as 
 Esther kept her helm away, the wind filled the now 
 full-sized mainsail, and the whole boat groaned and 
 strained, while the mast seemed to bend over with 
 the weight of its burden. 
 
 A minute of acute anxiety, and then the pace 
 quickened. Another minute, and the ketch was 
 racing away towards the light ahead, with long, living 
 bounds and swoops, seeming almost to tear over the 
 surface of the angry sea, instead of through it. 
 
108 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " That's better," said Esther, looking behind with 
 relief. 
 
 U A11 the same, I thought the mast was coming 
 out of her a minute ago," answered Dave calmly, " and 
 we're not out of it yet. There's the race to get 
 through." 
 
 Neither could hold the helm alone now ; the four 
 hands were needed to cope with the wild springs and 
 leaps of Brown Bird y who seemed alive and mad, 
 under the pressure of her sail. 
 
 For more than half-an-hour neither spoke. 
 
 Then Dave said, " What's the time, d'you 
 think?" 
 
 " Oh," said Esther, with a stiffened stretch of her 
 cramped body. " Time ; it seems years of noise and 
 black water, of thumps, and bangs, and rushes. I feel 
 as if I were in a horrible nightmare." 
 
 Dave looked at her critically. 
 
 11 You're getting a bit done," he said. 
 
 Esther shook her head, but her lips quivered, and 
 she said nothing. 
 
 Dave considered a moment, standing squarely on 
 his feet and staring ahead at the light, which seemed 
 to be comparatively close now. 
 
 " Have you got a drop of spirits on board ? " he said 
 presently. 
 
 "Yes, a little flask in the basket," said Esther. 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because if you could hold on a minute I'll get it 
 for you." 
 
 " I hate spirits," said Esther. 
 
 " So do I," said David. " I've seen enough to know 
 they do more harm than good most days, but you've 
 got to take some now. You're cold, stone cold," and 
 he laid a hand on hers which were blue and icy. 
 
 " I can hold on alone," and Esther looked at her 
 hands to see if they were still gripping the helm ; she 
 
( BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE IO9 
 
 seemed to have lost her sense of touch, and the noise 
 around was duller and more distant. 
 
 Dave was gone but a minute, when he returned 
 with the flask, and pouring some liquid into the cup, 
 held it out to her, grasping the helm to allow her to 
 let go. 
 
 She drank it obediently, vaguely conscious that 
 it was very strong and burning, and that Dave was 
 watching her anxiously ; then she handed back the 
 little cup to him, and seized the helm again, looking 
 down at her hands. 
 
 For five minutes the two held on together, then 
 Esther said — 
 
 " Thank you ever so much, Dave ; I'm waking up 
 again. I do believe I was nearly asleep." 
 
 " We can't afford a nap yet awhile," answered the 
 boy lightly. " Hold on a bit longer, and we'll sleep in 
 Salterne. We'll be in the race in a few minutes. 
 You'd better take the rest of it ; you only had a little 
 drop." 
 
 Esther laughed quite gaily. 
 
 " No, really, Dave, I'm all right again. If I took any 
 more I should over-do it. Do you think the sea is 
 going down ? " 
 
 The boy looked round doubtfully. 
 
 " When the tide turns it won't be so bad ; it's the 
 wind against the tide that kicked up this smother. 
 My word, Esther, hold on, we've got into the race." 
 
 The last exclamation was caused by Brown Bird 
 suddenly pointing her bows towards the racing tumble 
 of clouds above, and springing up with a wild lurch. 
 
 Dave and Esther held on grimly to the helm, which 
 seemed to wrench itself away from them, while the 
 boat, as though balked in her desire, rushed to the 
 opposite extreme and buried her bows in the churning 
 water, while the stern seemed raised high in the 
 air. 
 
HO 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 There was no time to speak, even had there been 
 breath left in them. 
 
 The great light from the Head shone over the wild 
 tumble of waters. They could see the black cliffs 
 rising on the left hand, embedded in a seething boil 
 of white foam, that swirled and leapt, falling on the 
 granite rock with a never-ceasing roar, and being 
 hurled up again and again by the force of its own 
 impact, to an immense height, in showers of spray. 
 
 A long spur of rocks ran out seawards above the 
 water, and, further out, below the water, which was 
 more dangerous still. Over these the water rushed, a 
 seething cauldron of resistless power. Of course, no 
 ship drawing any depth of water could have been in 
 their position without immediate destruction, but 
 Brown Bird, like the rest of her kind, was built for 
 coasting and shallow creeks ; her broad hull required 
 but a few feet of water, so that she sped on her way 
 where a deeper vessel would have been smashed to 
 matchwood. 
 
 The change in the motion was a trying one for her 
 crew. The waves, instead of following on each 
 other's heels with a succession of rollers from the 
 westward, appeared now to remain in the same place, 
 tossing their crests wildly skywards and falling again 
 upon themselves. There was no method in their 
 fury; they leapt and sprang on every side, flinging up 
 spray as high as the mast-head, which fell back either 
 on the deck or into the water with a ceaseless, 
 rushing sound. 
 
 Under the white glare of the Head light the water 
 looked like ink, and everywhere pools of foam floated 
 on the opaque blackness of its surface. 
 
 " I hate a race," said Dave. The works were jerked 
 out of him. 
 
 Esther laughed ; there was a faint tinge of colour 
 in her cheeks, and a daring light in her eyes. 
 
'BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE III 
 
 " What can you expect to-night, with half a gale 
 blowing across a spring tide ; we must be thankful if 
 we come out of it with legs and arms on our bodies. 
 Hallo, Dave, look out there ; doesn't she look 
 fine ? " 
 
 The boy looked away over the beam where Esther 
 pointed, and saw a noble sight. A four-masted 
 barque tearing up from the open sea before the gale, 
 her square sails set, and every rope pulling ; she was 
 going like a race-horse, and passed across the arc 
 made by the light like a phantom ship in a story. 
 
 11 Going to Salterne, d'you think ? " asked Dave, as 
 the glistening pile of canvas was lost in the dark 
 night. 
 
 "Perhaps to London/'said Esther dreamily/'coming 
 from away and away out there with corn or some- 
 thing, Dave. We think this is bad, but just imagine 
 what those real ships go through off the Horn. I've 
 heard things that made me shiver, though I'm not 
 afraid of the sea." 
 
 But Dave was not imaginative. 
 
 " She'll want a pilot, coming in like that," he said 
 thoughtfully. " I wonder who she'll get. No. XIX. 
 isn't going out till week after next, I don't believe." 
 
 " Is No. XIX. the boat your grandfather goes on ?" 
 asked Esther. 
 
 " Yes, grandfather and Steve Weld, and the rest of 
 that lot. She's got a bad name has No. XIX." He 
 paused, for Brown Bird was flung so violently from 
 side to side that for a moment it seemed as though 
 the mast must go ; there was a minute of reckless 
 lurching and pitching, during which the two held on 
 to anything within reach, and watched the swinging 
 of the ponderous boom with dread. Esther gave a 
 sigh of relief as the motion quieted down, and leaving 
 the helm to Dave, took off the oilskin hat, and dragged 
 her hair back from her face ; the long wet strands 
 
112 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 were escaping and, blown across her eyes, impeded 
 sight and sense. 
 
 "Why has No. XIX. got a bad name though, 
 Dave ? " she said, as she took the hairpins from 
 between her teeth, where she had put them for safety, 
 and fastened the heavy knot of hair firmly. 
 
 Dave shook his head mysteriously. 
 
 " There you are, she's got a name, and that's just 
 why people say things. She was the old Mary Rose 
 of Blankhampton, and got sunk in a gale ; she was 
 fished up and turned into a pilot-boat. Some people 
 say she's been sold twice like that, and had another 
 name before even she was the Mary Rose. She's sure 
 to go to the bottom in the end ; they always do." 
 
 Esther was aware of this superstition. 
 
 " I should think that depended a good bit on the 
 weather, and how they sail her," she said. " I don't 
 believe much in those sort of things." 
 
 " No more does Steve Weld," said Dave, with some 
 relief. 
 
 " There's no sense in them," said Esther. 
 
 11 Steve says if you believe in God you can't be 
 superstitious," went on the boy. 
 
 Esther was silent. There was a pause in which 
 they rushed on with the unvarying monotony of the 
 pitching motion and showers of spray, then she said — 
 
 " Is Stephen Weld good ? " 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Dave enthusiastically, "I 
 should rather think he was, a first-rater. Other 
 chaps don't do things when he's by ; he doesn't say 
 anything, but he looks, and you feel like a fool. 
 Grandfather says he's the best pilot on the south 
 coast, too ; he can do most anything, he's so strong 
 besides ; I wish I could be like him." 
 
 Esther looked round at the earnest solid face by 
 her side. 
 
 " Why shouldn't you be like him? — I don't see any 
 
'BROWN BIRD' FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE 113 
 
 reason." There was a little impatience in her tone 
 that she could not quite understand herself. " Some 
 people can be perfect, I suppose ; it isn't very difficult 
 when they haven't got things to make them savage, 
 and people are not against them. You'll be a 
 splendid pilot some day, Dave, you're a splendid 
 sailor now, a ' first-rater ' ; " and she laughed gaily, with 
 a feeling of compunction at her first tone of irritation. 
 
 " Young Dave " blushed with pleasure at the praise, 
 but found no words to express it, and they were both 
 silent for a while. 
 
 Minutes slipped by. Broivn Bird ploughed her 
 way more steadily onward, and the bounds of her 
 driven hull were modified into a more even rush. 
 
 Esther closed her eyes ; the lids ached with the 
 hours of strain and the pain of the beating spray. 
 Opening them again the scene seemed more grey, 
 and the outline of the long stretch of cliffs they were 
 skirting was visible in a faint luminous haze. Brown 
 Bird seemed to stretch herself out for an easier 
 motion, the jerks ceased, and the steady pull of the 
 big mainsail kept up an even strain. A long line of 
 white foam trailed from the cutting bows, that no 
 longer rose violently and dashed down again in uneasy 
 effort. 
 
 A sense of sleep was almost overpowering. Esther 
 rubbed her eyes and looked at David. He stood 
 square and solid as ever, wide-open eyes staring 
 ahead, but he started when she spoke to him. 
 
 " Dave, do you see, the day's coming ? I was nearly 
 asleep." 
 
 The boy looked round. Away on all sides the 
 dim luminous greyness was spreading, Behind, the 
 outline of the Durl Head, full in the path of the 
 advancing dawn, was touched with white on all its 
 rocky ridges, where the gulls, clustering in hundreds, 
 shone in the wet mist. 
 
 H 
 
114 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " My word, Esther, we've done it," he exclaimed. 
 "Just look, the tide's turned, it's with us strong ; the 
 wind's gone down too, it mostly does at the turn of 
 the tide. And now here's the day coming." 
 
 Esther let go the helm and stretched her long 
 arms with a little shriek of triumph. 
 
 " Hurrah, Dave, we've done it. Now I'll go down 
 and make some splendid coffee ; we've nothing to do 
 but just run up quietly into Salterne ; we'll be there 
 about seven o'clock." 
 
 " Oh, before that," said David, stretching and 
 yawning loudly, with a glorious sense of anxiety 
 lifted. 
 
 " With this tide and the wind, too, we shall make a 
 spanking run of it." 
 
 About the time that Brown Bird slipped up Salterne 
 river with a flood tide and a fair wind, running lazily 
 on an even keel, while her crew, with revived strength 
 and enjoyment of life, looked ahead for mooring 
 ground, a weary figure crept from the window of old 
 Tewkesbury's cottage, and holding by the furniture, 
 made his way back to the tumbled couch, and almost 
 fell into it in utter exhaustion. What Michael Carne 
 had suffered during that long terrible night it would 
 not be possible to write. Sleepless and tossing, he 
 had been drawn to the window by the dash of the 
 rain and the shaking of the leaden panes ; and once 
 there he sat, rocking to and fro, torn to pieces by 
 mental and physical agony, staring out at the wild 
 sky. As the wind rose he followed the course of his 
 boat, and foresaw every danger and difficulty that 
 would arise with the added torture of hopeless help- 
 lessness. He muttered and cried to himself as the 
 gusts shook the cottage, tears of agony gathered in 
 his eyes and remained without falling, while the long 
 hours painted dark lines on his drawn face. He 
 lost count of time, and the candle burned out ; only 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 1 15 
 
 the little fire, carefully banked up by Esther, cast a 
 faint glow over the floor and legs of the chairs. 
 
 The faint grey luminous haze, that had wrapt the 
 Brown Bird after her long hours of struggle, peeped 
 later into the cottage and touched the haggard face 
 leaning against the wall by the window. To Michael 
 also it came as a sort of surprise ; he raised himself 
 with difficulty and opened the window, his shaking 
 hand almost refusing the effort. 
 
 The sky was lighting all round ; the wind had 
 dropped ; in the valley it seemed quite silent, while 
 the dull distant roar of the waves that had battered at 
 the gates of Durlmouth Cove all night, seemed to be 
 sinking to a sleepy hum. Then Michael Carne had 
 raised himself and crawled to the couch like a man in 
 a dream. 
 
 " She's safe now," he whispered, " if — she lived 
 through the night." 
 
 And unconsciousness mercifully wrapt him like a 
 soft cloak. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 
 
 TEPHEN WELD was in the habit of getting 
 up very early. That Wednesday morning 
 was no exception to the rule, and five 
 o'clock found him working in Mrs. 
 Fearey's garden. There was not much 
 
 left to be done, and half-an-hour afterwards he strolled 
 
 off down the road to the village to see what damage 
 
 the storm had done. 
 
 The morning was lovely, but traces of the fierce 
 
 game played by the wind all night were visible every- 
 
Il6 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 where, in broken fruit trees and bending hedges, while 
 not a few fences had sustained injury, and creepers 
 were hanging in long pennons where they had been 
 torn from their hold on thatch and chimney. 
 
 Stephen walked on looking about till he came 
 opposite old Tewkesbury's cottage, then he stood still, 
 startled by something that drew his attention. From 
 the chimney drifted a thin line of smoke. How could 
 that be if the Carnes were gone, they surely would 
 not have left a fire ? 
 
 It occurred to him that it was probable they had 
 started, and finding the weather too heavy outside 
 had returned later, at least into the outer basin, wait- 
 ing for better prospects. Reasoning the matter in his 
 mind, with a good deal more interest than was his 
 habit over the affairs of neighbours, he hastened his 
 steps towards the village, arriving at the quay only to 
 see that Brown Bird was not there, and to hear that 
 she had gone out earlier than had been expected the 
 night before. 
 
 Without making any comment, except the usual 
 ones about the weather, Steve made his way back 
 home. There was the smoke still curling gently out 
 of the chimney, and drifting away towards the north- 
 east in little light scraps of cloud against the morning 
 sky. 
 
 " Aunt," he said, as he entered the kitchen, " what 
 do you make of this ? there's smoke coming out of the 
 chimney of the Carnes' place." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was pottering about on her clogs, and 
 the kitchen shone with cleanliness. She was untying 
 her " coarse " apron as her nephew entered, holding the 
 clean one in her teeth as she did so, therefore she 
 did not answer at once, first folding up the working 
 garment, then, when her mouth was free and her 
 busy hands tying on the neat breakfast apron, she 
 said — 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 117 
 
 " Smoke, lad, you said ; well, and why not smoke ? " 
 
 " They'd hardly leave a fire in an empty house," and 
 Steve looked at her questioningly. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey drew in her breath and pursed her 
 lips. 
 
 " Dearie me, I was forgetting ; well, that's odd, 
 surely," and she paused, considering deeply. 
 
 " Do you mind going down there, aunt, just to see 
 if all's right ? it's a shame to ask you when you're busy 
 with breakfast." In spite of himself the pilot felt a 
 flush overspread his face ; it was especially annoying 
 because he was, and wished to appear, indifferent ; yet 
 he could not shake off the feeling of self-conscious- 
 ness that made him avoid his aunt's eye as he stooped 
 to pat Trixie's willing head. 
 
 u Of course I'll go, it won't take me a minute," the 
 little woman did not appear to notice any embarrass- 
 ment in her nephew's manner. " Come on, Trixie, 
 boy, the trot will do you good ; " and the two hurried 
 down the path and out of the gate, the old dog stiff 
 with morning rheumatism and keeping up with 
 difficulty^ 
 
 " Mother's going too fast for you, is she ? but there, 
 it's cruel only to be kind," said Mrs. Fearey; "if she 
 was to let you lie all day by the fire, you'd be a 
 marble dog in no time, and never see the outside of 
 your own home again. / know well enough what 
 that front leg feels like ; there's nothing new about it 
 you can tell me; but we mustn't give in to it. There's 
 some things must be humoured, and some wants 
 driving ; and the rheumatics are the sort that wants 
 driving ; but there, / know what it is," and the little 
 woman stopped and stooping over the old sheep-dog, 
 gently lifted the cramped front foot on to her knee, 
 and rubbed it tenderly with her small hard hands. 
 
 The old dog stifled a faint whine between his lips 
 as her hands passed over the joint ; but his tufty tail 
 
1 18 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 wagged eagerly, and his loving eyes watched the sharp 
 face bent down to him, as only dogs can watch. 
 
 " It's the rain that's done it, Trixie, boy," said Mrs. 
 Fearey soothingly, " the bad weather last night ; a 
 drop of mother's stuff on a bit of flannel is what you 
 shall have as soon as we get home, and a bit of 
 patience will do the rest. And as for complaints, we 
 shan't hear any from you. There, can you come on a 
 little farther?" 
 
 The old dog gave a sharp bark in response to the 
 invitation, and jumped a little on three legs to show 
 how much better the fourth was, out of compliment. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mrs. Fearey, as they proceeded on 
 their way. "And you're not the only person that 
 pretends there's nothing the matter. There's Steve 
 now, thinks his old aunt hasn't learned to see a hay- 
 stack in her sixty years of life ! Ah, well, the girl's 
 a fine creature, and love would teach her a deal." 
 
 They reached the gate and Mrs. Fearey looked at 
 the smoke eagerly, as they passed through the little 
 wicket. " Sure enough, sure enough," she murmured, 
 and hurried up the path. 
 
 On approaching the house she hesitated, then after 
 considering tapped at the door. There was no answer. 
 She tapped again louder. 
 
 " That's funny," and the little woman backed away 
 to look up again at the chimney, in so doing the 
 window caught her eye, unlatched, shaking uneasily 
 to and fro. 
 
 " It's not my habit to look in people's windows," 
 said the pilot's widow hesitating, " but there's some- 
 thing amiss here," and she pulled open the frame and 
 put her head in. 
 
 A tiny fire was smouldering down, the remains of 
 food were on the table, a chair was upset near the 
 window, and an inert, unconscious figure lay prone 
 among dragging bed-clothes on the couch. 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 119 
 
 " The Almighty protect us ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Fearey, withdrawing her head, and addressing Trixie 
 with trembling lips, " there's something wrong here." 
 
 Without hesitation she tried the door, and, find- 
 ing it unlocked, entered, followed closely by the old 
 dog. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was a most courageous woman, but 
 even she hesitated as she approached the couch and 
 its lifeless burden ; Trixie, however, was not so 
 diffident. He pricked his ears and gave voice to an 
 uneasy whine, then, hastening forward, sniffed at the 
 heavy hand pendant on the trailing blanket. Then 
 he limped to meet his hesitating mistress, and looked 
 up in her face with confidence. 
 
 "The Lord be praised," exclaimed Mrs. Fearey, 
 patting his head, " the dog's put my heart back again 
 into me. I thought the man was dead, but Trixie 
 says ' no/ and he couldn't make a mistake." 
 
 Michael Carne was not dead, but his condition 
 was enough to dismay a stout heart. As Mrs. Fearey 
 looked at the ashen face, she read exhaustion and 
 collapse, and her first thought was tea and food. 
 
 She peeped into the back kitchen, and called 
 up-stairs. 
 
 " Esther's gone, that's one sure thing," she said, as 
 she thrust sticks into the dying sparks, " and what 
 does it all mean, Trixie, boy ? " 
 
 She did not cease in her exertions till Michael 
 Carne, raised a little against a banked-up pillow, was 
 taking sips of tea, and staring at her stupidly with 
 dull eyes ; even then she did not dare to ask him 
 about his daughter, but contented herself with in- 
 ducing him gradually to eat an egg and take some 
 more tea. She saw his eyes wandering to the window 
 again and again, and therefore presently remarked — 
 
 11 It's a lovely morning, Mr. Carne." 
 
 Michael turned his eyes on her wistfully. 
 
120 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " It was an awful night," he said. 
 To this the pilot's widow made no reply, but con- 
 tented herself with getting the couch straight, then 
 she said aloud — 
 
 " I'm going home now, Mr. Carne, and what's more 
 I'm going to send my Steve for the doctor. Whether 
 you will or no that foot's got to be seen to, and going 
 on like this is flying in the face of Providence. Legs 
 and arms can't be played with no more than eyes 
 can. I was never one to run for the doctor at every 
 sneeze ; but when a person's bones are in question it 
 stands to reason they know more about the way 
 we're put together than we can ourselves. You've 
 got your daughter to consider." 
 
 At the mention of Esther, Carne's face quivered, 
 and he turned restlessly on the couch ; then, raising 
 himself on his elbow, he said, with a sort of defiance 
 in his tone — 
 
 " You've never said a word about Esther ; where 
 do you suppose she is ? " 
 
 " I've never said a word yet, Michael Carne," replied 
 the little woman briskly, "and reason good that I 
 dare hardly ask myself where she is." 
 
 " She's gone to Salterne in the Brown Bird, with 
 the flour, and she was out all last night," said Michael, 
 with a sort of unflinching calmness in his voice as 
 though he were giving himself great pain to see what 
 it felt like. 
 
 There was silence in the cottage for a moment, 
 then Mrs. Fearey said in a voice that trembled a 
 little, " The Lord forgive you for letting the child 
 go," and with that she walked straight out of the 
 house and down the garden-path. 
 
 Through the gate and up the road she ran, or 
 rather trotted ; Trixie, much exercised in his mind 
 at the turn of events, making stupendous efforts to 
 keep up ; so excited was she, that she ran into 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 121 
 
 Stephen before she noticed that he was waiting 
 about in the road for her re-appearance. 
 
 " Hullo, aunt," said the big pilot, clutching the 
 little figure, " what's the matter, nothing wrong, eh ? " 
 and there was a strain of anxiety in his deep voice. 
 
 M Oh, my dearie boy," cried Mrs. Fearey, wringing 
 her hands distractedly, " oh, the silly, silly creatures 
 we humans are, when we take to doing our own wills. 
 It's nothing short of murder." 
 
 " Don't put yourself out, Aunt Fearey," said 
 Stephen, but his face showed his keen fear of her 
 next words. 
 
 " Oh, dear lad, who could help it," and the little 
 woman's features were distorted in an almost comical 
 effort to keep back a tear. " Michael Carne's in the 
 cottage as bad as can be ; and the child has taken 
 Brown Bird to Salterne by herself, and if that isn't 
 enough " she broke off feeling for her handker- 
 chief, while the old dog leaned heavily against her 
 knee, rubbing his grey head against her dress, with 
 little half-stifled whines of distress. 
 
 Stephen's face whitened under the tan. Then he 
 said — 
 
 " Young Dave Occomore went." 
 
 u Two children," answered Mrs. Fearey, despairingly. 
 
 With one accord, forgetting breakfast, they turned 
 back again towards the Carnes' cottage. 
 
 Michael was sitting up with his chin resting on 
 his hands, his unshaved face and rough hair adding 
 to the desolation of his neglected appearance. 
 
 " I thought you'd gone for good, ma'am," he said, 
 with a touch of bitterness, "but your words were 
 true enough ; the Lord forgive me for letting the 
 child go." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey threw out her hands with a little 
 gesture of repudiation. 
 
 " Who am I to judge any one ? " she said quickly. 
 
122 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " If any one has suffered last night it's been you, Mr. 
 Carne; now you've got to put away all the worry 
 out of your mind." 
 
 " That's easy to say," said Carne, almost fiercely. 
 " How can I put the worry out of my mind ? " 
 
 " You can trust in the loving Almighty God, 
 Michael Carne," answered Mrs. Fearey, with her 
 sharpest energy of accent. " I should have thought 
 it would have come to you in the night how little 
 we poor humans can do for them we love, however 
 much we may love and sorrow ; we must leave them 
 to Him, and we must believe He does the best for 
 them — and reason good He should," she added, 
 changing her tone, " considering He loves them a 
 deal more than we can." 
 
 After a minute or two of silence in which Mrs. 
 Fearey brushed up the hearth, Carne suddenly began 
 to tell them about the plan he and Esther had 
 conceived, and how it had been carried out ; having 
 once broken the ice, it seemed a relief to him to 
 discuss it all, in every detail. 
 
 " It was a pity you didn't think to tell me, Mr. 
 Carne," said the pilot, " I'd have gone with the boat 
 and welcome ; I've nothing to do." 
 
 " It's very kind of you to say so," said the master 
 of Brown Bird, "but we didn't want all the folk 
 down here to know I hadn't gone myself, you see it 
 gives them such a crow over us." 
 
 A slight shadow of contempt passed over the 
 pilot's clear eyes. 
 
 " Rather a small sort of thing to risk a girl's life 
 for, don't you think ? " he said dryly. 
 
 Michael flushed hotly. 
 
 " You're right, Weld," he said gloomily. "But 
 when we talked it over before it didn't seem to look 
 so bad ; and then Esther was so set on it — all the 
 same, I can see now I was a madman." 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 123 
 
 Talking spasmodically the three waited for the 
 hoped-for telegram. Michael refused to allow a 
 doctor to be fetched till it had come ; and again and 
 again inquired eagerly how long it would take to bring 
 a telegram from Durlstone village, the nearest office. 
 
 "Four miles is nothing on a bicycle," he said 
 restlessly. 
 
 " But then you never know if they're sharp with 
 the messages," said Mrs. Fearey comforting, and the 
 minutes flew by. 
 
 Carne pressed his visitors to eat something, and 
 Mrs. Fearey took her cup of tea with pleasure, sharing 
 it with Trixie, who regarded the turn of events with 
 anything but favour, and followed his mistress' 
 steps so closely that it was difficult to move without 
 falling over him ; but Stephen made only a pretence 
 of eating and drinking, watching the clock, and listen- 
 ing in a way that did not escape his aunt's keen eye, 
 though Michael himself was too absorbed in his own 
 anxiety to notice. 
 
 Suddenly there was a noise at the gate. Stephen 
 started up, almost upsetting his chair, and met the 
 bearer of the pink envelope at the door. 
 
 " Here you are, Mr. Carne." 
 
 Michael clutched the prize. 
 
 " The money's waiting," he said, pointing to the 
 half-crown on the tablecloth, "it's been waiting all 
 night ; " his hands were trembling, and he looked 
 feebly at Mrs. Fearey. " I daren't open this thing, 
 ma'am, now it's come." 
 
 " Why bless you, poor dear man," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Fearey gleefully. "If the news wasn't good it 
 couldn't have come at all ; whatever are you 
 thinking of?" 
 
 Michael flushed and laughed nervously, there was 
 a rustling of thin paper, and then he read with effort. 
 
 "All well, arrived safe at 6.30. — Esther." 
 
124 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " That's good hearing, thanks be to the Almighty," 
 said Mrs. Fearey cheerfully, turning away to move 
 the kettle with a delicacy that would not watch the 
 quivering face, and tears rolling slowly down the 
 sunken cheeks. " Now, Steve, lad, I think we'll have 
 the doctor if you can be off to Durlstone ; we might 
 have sent a message by the lad, stupid me, my head's 
 going." 
 
 " It's all one, aunt," said the pilot ; he had re- 
 covered all his wonted composure. " I may as well 
 go, I can explain a bit, besides it's all on the road." 
 
 " On the road to where ? " asked Mrs. Fearey, 
 pausing with the dustpan in her hand. 
 
 " To Salterne," said Stephen cheerfully. " With 
 Mr. Carne's leave I'm going to Salterne to bring 
 Brown Bird back ; we can't let Es — let there be 
 any more risk." 
 
 " What do you say to that, will it suit you ? " said 
 the little woman, turning to Michael, who lay back 
 quietly holding the telegram. 
 
 " I'll be very grateful, and thank you kindly, Weld ; 
 thank you too, ma'am, I don't know what I'd have 
 done without you." There was a softness in the 
 man's eyes and voice that had not been there before. 
 
 " That's settled then, lad," and Mrs. Fearey looked 
 up at her big nephew, with a quaint little sparkle in 
 her bright eyes. " I shan't expect you till I see you, 
 and mind — you take care of Esther." 
 
 It appeared that Stephen attended assiduously to 
 his aunt's last injunction, for Esther had seldom looked 
 so beautiful as in the hour, a few days later, when 
 Brown Bird stole into the cove, lazily moving with 
 the assistance of a soft summer air from the south-east. 
 
 The success of her daring exploit had been a great 
 triumph to the girl ; her head was high, and in her 
 large eyes was an expression difficult to read, as 
 though the natural sweetness of her nature struggled 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY 1 25 
 
 to overcome the bitterness induced by recent events. 
 As she steered the ketch up the river there was a 
 deep flush under her soft skin, and her heart was 
 beating quickly though her manner was indifferent. 
 
 Stephen and young Dave maintained a like 
 stoical demeanour. The former's was natural ; simply 
 because the pilot's simplicity of heart left him little 
 room to trouble about the opinions and motives of 
 others. He was so straightforward, so sincere and 
 unsuspicious, that self-consciousness was foreign to 
 him, and possible interpretations to be put by those 
 less noble on his actions, did not present themselves 
 to his mind. 
 
 Young Dave, on the contrary, was full of pride 
 over his achievement, and his manner was a careful 
 disguise prepared to meet a reception that he knew 
 would contain a large element of envy and admira- 
 tion ; at least among lads of his own age, with whom 
 exploits of seamanship were tests of manhood, and 
 gave a stamp that was a hall-mark for always. 
 
 In spite of Mrs. Fearey's reticence, the visit of the 
 doctor had betrayed the fact that old Tewkesbury's 
 cottage was not empty. Inquiries came to the door ; 
 loiterers hung about the gate, but they gleaned little 
 information, and met with no encouragement from 
 Mrs. Fearey's brisk manner of dismissal. 
 
 The miller refused to believe the rumour at first ; 
 but when it gathered circumstance, he came himself 
 to the cottage, and knocked at the door, which was 
 opened by the pilot's widow, arrayed for cleaning up, 
 in her clogs and apron, with the hard-felt hat perched 
 a little on one side and a handkerchief tied over the 
 top, " to ward off the dust," as she had explained to 
 Michael. 
 
 " Is it true that Carne's daughter went off alone to 
 Salterne ? " said the miller brusquely. 
 
 " She and young Dave Occomore, yes, that's true. 
 
126 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Go in, Baby, go in, my lamb, I can't have you in the 
 wet with that foot." 
 
 "But it's very serious," exclaimed Mr. Emmett 
 irritably. " How do I know that the boat did not 
 founder last night, and take my flour to the bottom ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fearey looked up at him with an expression 
 difficult to define. 
 
 "Never break your heart about the flour, Mr. 
 Emmett," she said dryly. " It's safe at Salterne." 
 
 " How do you know ? " said the miller eagerly. 
 
 " Esther Carne telegraphed to her father this morn- 
 ing to ease his mind ; they got in at half after six, safe 
 and well." 
 
 The miller's ruffled brow cleared. 
 
 " Ah," he said, " what a quick run ; good business 
 that, eh ? " He was just turning from the door when 
 a thought appeared to strike him, and he returned. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was closing the door, and did not 
 trouble to show more of herself than four inches of 
 space could reveal, though Trixie thrust his grey nose 
 out, by her knee, to have another look at the visitor. 
 
 " How was it that Carne didn't go himself? " 
 
 " Couldn't move," replied Mrs. Fearey briskly. 
 
 Mr. Emmett made a little sound of dismay. 
 
 " What an annoying thing ; I wanted to employ him 
 months ahead. When will he be fit for work again ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fearey drew in her lips, with a faint shrug 
 of her small shoulders. 
 
 " Nuisance," said the miller, " he's the best carrier 
 I've got," and turning away he walked down the 
 path, looking about at the garden as he went. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey opened the door a little wider, sufficient 
 for the passage of the felt hat, and looked after him 
 with a curious smile on her sharp face. 
 
 "Did mother ever tell you the story of Naboth's 
 Vineyard, Trixie, boy ? " she said, as she drew in her 
 head and latched the door. " It's not near such an 
 
SMOKE FROM A CHIMNEY \2J 
 
 uncommon one as anybody might think. And there's 
 the other one like it : the man with flocks and herds, 
 and the man with the one little lamb. Ah dear, the 
 Almighty knows His creatures' hearts, and the Bible 
 is a wonderful book ; it takes in all a man could do, 
 or think of, or dream of. The Blessed Lord left 
 nothing out in His message to the poor souls He tries 
 to win. Ah, but, Trixie, boy, the patience, the 
 patience of the Almighty. If the miller looks black to 
 a poor sinner like Emma Fearey, what must we all 
 look, the best of us, to the dear Lord ! " 
 
 " What were you talking about, ma'am ? " said 
 Michael, turning his head from contemplation of the 
 singing kettle, with a little gleam of humour in his 
 deep-set eyes as they followed the active figure on the 
 clogs, crowned with such strange head-gear ! 
 
 " Talking, was I, Mr. Carne. Ah dear, it's a way I 
 get into, being so much alone with the child. He 
 understands me, you'd never believe the wiseness of 
 the dog. Here, Baby, don't you follow mother round, 
 you go and sit by the fire till it's time to go home." 
 
 The old dog obeyed at once, sitting down by 
 Michael, but still following his mistress with that 
 faithful, loving eye. 
 
 " I don't know what I was talking about," said Mrs. 
 Fearey, " but I know what I was thinking about ; the 
 mistake we make when we begin judging other 
 people, it's better to leave it all to the Almighty." 
 
 * Ah," said Michael thoughtfully, stroking the mild 
 grey head of the sheep-dog. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that when Brown Bird cast 
 her moorings, all Durlmouth was full of interest and 
 excitement, and speculation. 
 
 Esther paid no attention to observing idlers, but 
 sprang ashore, and with a word to Stephen and Dave 
 ran up the quay. She had not gone many steps 
 when she was met by the miller. 
 
128 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 "Glad to see you safe back," said Mr. Emmett. 
 
 " Mr. Weld came down to help us bring her back," 
 said Esther, a little confused by the expression in the 
 miller's prominent light eyes. 
 
 " It was a great risk, that run down." 
 
 " The flour was all safe," said Esther. " Good-night, 
 Mr. Emmett, if you'll excuse me, I want to see 
 father," and she ran up the bridge with long springing 
 steps. 
 
 The miller turned, and walked slowly back to his 
 house, thinking ; and his thoughts dwelt persistently 
 on Esther Carne. 
 
 When he reached the house door, he turned and 
 looked back at the brown sails sliding down, as the 
 two men housed them for the night. 
 
 " Yes," he said, almost aloud, " I'll marry that girl, 
 she's a beautiful creature ; she'll be a credit to me 
 dressed like a lady. They may say what they like, 
 I'll marry her," and he went in and shut the door. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ESTHER HESITATES 
 
 HE injury to Michael Carne's foot was by 
 no means the simple one they had at first 
 supposed, but no less a disaster than the 
 rupture of the tendon at the back of the 
 heel, and the doctor held out little hope 
 of his being able to walk for many many weeks ; the 
 harm done by neglect and wrong treatment to start 
 with, having aggravated the mischief. Esther did 
 not allow her father to see how dismayed she was 
 at the verdict, but quietly set herself to make his 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 1 29 
 
 imprisonment as bearable as she could, by her courage 
 and cheerfulness at home. 
 
 The worst of this state of affairs was that it in- 
 creased the bitterness of both father and daughter 
 against the village, which triumphed, as it were, in 
 their misfortune. 
 
 Brown Bird was perforce idle, and the other boats 
 fell into their old routine, doing the miller's work in 
 their own time, and "hurrying no man's cattle," as 
 Haynes said, to the constant irritation of the miller. 
 
 Esther kept herself to herself, working in the garden 
 and taking no notice of any one, her only friends 
 being Mrs. Fearey, who watched the state of things 
 sorrowfully, and the two old sisters, who welcomed 
 her presence, and realized nothing of ill-feeling and 
 gossip. 
 
 For some days after the return from Salterne, 
 Stephen Weld had remained at home, though finding 
 it necessary to be a great deal at the Carnes' cottage. 
 Esther welcomed him with sincere good-fellowship; 
 with him she laughed and talked, asking him to come 
 and see her father often, refusing to allow him to do 
 her garden work, because, as she teasingly said, she 
 was as strong as he, if not stronger, but greeting his 
 arrivals with evident pleasure, and dropping in his 
 presence the hard manner that she wore for the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 " I think your nephew is the nicest man I ever 
 met, Mrs. Fearey," she said to the pilot's widow ; and 
 the little woman looked into her unconscious face and 
 sighed, but laughed the next moment, saying that 
 Steve was a fine lad. 
 
 Michael Carne would not let Esther take the ketch 
 out again, and refused Stephen's offers of help, not 
 wishing, as he said, to be beholden to anybody. The 
 temporary softness induced by Esther's safe voyage 
 had given place to a return in force of all the bitterest 
 
 I 
 
I 30 • ' THE BROWN BIRD ' 
 
 feelings that had possessed him before, aggravated by 
 his failure to retain his place in the rivalry, and by 
 the consciousness that, as long as he could not move, 
 money was going out every day and none coming in. 
 
 He and Esther might live as sparingly as possible, 
 but there was the doctor to pay, medicines and 
 nourishing food ordered to be considered ; and be 
 careful as you will, such expenses mount up when 
 they are continued week after week to a sum which 
 one would never have calculated. 
 
 When Stephen went away for his usual turn Esther's 
 mind was full of difficulties. So absorbed was she in 
 the growing troubles, and the effort to keep her anxiety 
 from Michael, that she overlooked the earnest tender- 
 ness in the pilot's eyes, and failed to note the timidity 
 of his manner. 
 
 " Don't you go and overwork yourself, Esther," he 
 said anxiously, lingering at the door. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right, Steve, thank you," said the girl, 
 smiling, though there was a little pucker of worry 
 between her straight eyebrows; "don't you trouble 
 about me." 
 
 "Trouble," exclaimed Stephen, almost under his 
 breath. " Aunt has promised me that she'll look after 
 you," he added aloud. 
 
 " I don't want any looking after," answered Esther 
 lightly. " What are you keeping on about so, Steve ? " 
 
 The pilot looked at her, and words flew to his lips, 
 but he checked them. Love was taking possession of 
 his great heart, of a kind only known to the noblest 
 — love, with tender reverence; love, with unselfish 
 patience ; love, that considered only the happiness of 
 the loved one, and waited almost with awe for a little 
 hope, therefore he said nothing, but another good- 
 bye, and Esther watched the tall figure stride down 
 the path with genuine regret, and returned to the 
 consideration of her own troubles. 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 131 
 
 " Good-bye, lad," said Mrs. Fearey ; " God bless 
 you ; take all the care you can, we'd be sore hearts 
 without you." There were tears in her bright eyes, 
 but the sharp face was full of courage. 
 
 Stephen stooped to kiss her. 
 
 "You won't forget your promise about — Esther, 
 aunt ? " There was an eager pleading in the clear eyes. 
 
 " Now, am I likely to forget," cried the little woman 
 with pretended indignation ; " I never knew such a 
 boy. The young ones have no patience, have they, 
 Trixie ? Wait awhile, lad, the child doesn't know she 
 has a heart yet, but love breeds love all the world 
 over." 
 
 " Do you really think that ? " The pilot flushed. 
 
 "Wait, lad, and love her; she's a fine girl, and not 
 a common sort to jump at every man she sees. Keep 
 a brave heart, and your old aunt will live to see you 
 happy. There, go along." 
 
 And Stephen went, lighter of heart, but full of 
 thoughts of his own unworthiness and fears that he 
 should never dare to offer anything so poor as his 
 own heart to such a queen among women as Esther 
 Carne. 
 
 A few days after his departure, Mr. Emmett, the 
 miller, came to see Michael Carne. Esther opened 
 the door, and when she saw who it was, concluded 
 that business had brought the owner of the mill. 
 
 " Father, can you speak to Mr. Emmett ? " she said, 
 turning from the door. 
 
 And the miller entered, unwontedly gracious in his 
 manner, but with somewhat the appearance of con- 
 ferring a favour. 
 
 " I should like a few words with you alone, if you 
 don't mind, Carne," he said. 
 
 Michael looked at him with some anxiety, his 
 thoughts flying at once to his boat, then he glanced 
 at Esther. 
 
132 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " All right, dad/' said Esther, with her own air of 
 quiet dignity. " I was just going into the garden, so 
 it's all the same. Won't you sit down, sir ? " and she 
 set a chair for the miller. 
 
 About half-an-hour afterwards, Esther, who was 
 banking up celery with a skilled hand, saw the miller 
 go away. He appeared to look round as if for some- 
 thing or some one, but did not see the girl who was 
 protected by a waving green wall of late artichoke as 
 she stooped over her work. 
 
 " I wonder what he wanted," she thought, and 
 having finished the neat bed she went in to see. 
 
 Michael was sitting up looking a little excited, a 
 faint flush burned on his hard cheek, and his eyes 
 greeted her with a curious expression. 
 
 " Come here, my girl, and sit down a bit," he said, 
 dragging a chair nearer to his side ; " I want to tell 
 you something queer." 
 
 " Not bad news, dad ? " and Esther stopped anxiously 
 on her way to the wash-house. 
 
 " Bad, no ; I expect most people would think it 
 was very good," and Michael passed his hand over his 
 forehead. Esther noted that the fingers trembled 
 nervously. 
 
 In a few minutes she came and sat down, not on 
 the chair, but on the hearthrug, and waited for him to 
 speak. 
 
 Michael hesitated, then he began with a sudden 
 tone of vexation — 
 
 " I wish your poor mother was alive, my girl, she'd 
 know what to say to you ; it's very hard on a man to 
 lose his wife." 
 
 Esther turned her head aside and looked at the fire, 
 sometimes her father's way of repiping worried her 
 by its uselessness and want of moral strength. 
 
 " She'd have known how to put it to you," went on 
 Michael in a troubled tone. 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 1 33 
 
 " I don't think it matters for that, dad," said Esther 
 gently ; " I can understand you just as well as I 
 should have understood mother. What is it you want 
 to say to me ? " 
 
 " I hardly know how to put it," went on Carne ; 
 "and yet it's simple enough. It's just this, Mr. 
 Emmett, the miller, wants to marry you." 
 
 " Marry me ! " exclaimed Esther, starting up on to 
 her knees with a little gasp. 
 
 Having once broken the ice, Michael Carne went 
 on to explain, leaning forward on his elbow and look- 
 ing at his daughter's astonished face. 
 
 " It isn't a thing to sneeze at, Esther. He's a rich 
 man, a very rich man. He's money in two banks, 
 and house property in the best streets of Rockhampton. 
 He owns land, and horses, and he's doing a wonderful 
 trade. You'd be a lady; you could drive your own 
 carriage, he'd give you anything, he seems so set 
 on you." 
 
 He paused in the catalogue of advantages, for 
 Esther said nothing. 
 
 "You've not set your heart on any one else, 
 lass ? " he asked rather anxiously, a sudden dismay 
 of Stephen's attentions suggesting itself to his mind. 
 
 Esther, who had sunk quietly down again to her 
 position on the rug as he continued to speak, and was 
 now staring at the fire, shook her head. 
 
 " Oh no, dad, I don't think about any one but you," 
 she added, with the faintest quiver in her voice that 
 she could not account for herself. 
 
 "You don't dislike the man ?" Michael's voice was 
 tender as he looked at the motherless girl sitting 
 curled up on the rug with her large eyes fixed wistfully 
 on the fire. 
 
 " I haven't thought about him at all, to like or 
 dislike," and Esther gave a little laugh. 
 
 There was a pause, then Michael tried again. 
 
134 'THE BROWN BIRD 5 
 
 " It would be a wonderful slap in the face to the 
 whole village to see you mistress of the Mill House, 
 and set above them all. Not that I'd like to make 
 you unhappy for a thing like that, but you can't help 
 looking at it. The miller's a fine man, and young 
 too, for all he's been married before. There's nothing 
 against him." 
 
 Esther rocked herself to and fro, twisting her fingers 
 together. 
 
 " Of course we must remember that the miller is 
 doing us a favour, my girl. He thinks all the world 
 of you, but he's not the sort to pick up with any girl. 
 Looking at it fairly it's an honour, it's a great position 
 offered you." 
 
 Esther looked at the twists of her fingers, and the 
 corners of her mouth were a little mutinous. Some- 
 where in her heart rose the natural womanly thought 
 that she was honouring any man by marrying him, 
 and that she resented the patronage that threw the 
 handkerchief to her, thinking a favour was being 
 conferred. 
 
 " What did you say, dad ? " she asked presently, 
 raising her eyes. 
 
 "Well," — Carne was a little nervous, not quite 
 understanding his daughter's manner — " I said / had 
 no objections to offer. None at all, I saw the favour 
 done us. I said you weren't keeping company with 
 any one else." 
 
 " Did he ask ? " and Esther's eyes read her father's 
 face, with a gleam of amusement. 
 
 " No, he didn't ask," said Carne. " He just said 
 would 1 tell you he'd wish to marry you ; he said it 
 would be a great advantage to you in many ways." 
 
 Esther looked at the fire, and a little furrow 
 appeared between her black eyebrows. 
 
 " Of course," went on Carne, " I don't want to press 
 you. I wouldn't like you to go against your heart. 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 1 35 
 
 But there ; the money's going out every week. There's 
 the debt on the house, / don't know when it will be 
 paid, now. It will be weeks before I can do anything, 
 and winter's coming ; it will be all we can do to live, 
 using up the rest of the money, we shall never pay 
 it off by August next." 
 
 " But as long as we pay the interest it won't matter, 
 dad," said Esther rather faintly. 
 
 Michael shook his head. 
 
 " There was the stipulation that it should only be a 
 year's mortgage. I don't say it wouldn't be renewed, 
 but we can't count on that." 
 
 " But who could want this house ? " said Esther 
 indignantly. 
 
 Her father shook his head again. 
 
 " Business is business. You can't count on people 
 changing their minds." 
 
 Esther realized that he was looking at the matter 
 in a more gloomy way to accentuate the advantages 
 of the miller's offer. 
 
 There was a pause again, then she said — 
 
 " Dad, you can't expect me to say 'yes' offhand. 
 I can't promise to marry a man I've hardly looked at 
 even, and never spoken to, for the sake of his money 
 and houses." 
 
 Michael made a gesture of deprecation. 
 
 " But," went on Esther, " I don't say ' no ' either. 
 I might get to like him enough to marry him. Ot 
 course I can see it would be a good thing for both 
 of us." 
 
 " You don't say no, then ? " asked Michael eagerly. 
 
 "I might try and like him, dad, if you want me to 
 very much ; do you want it very much, dad ? " and 
 Esther's large eyes turned wistfully towards her 
 father's face, with a softness of tears in their dark 
 depths. 
 
 " I can't deny, my girl," Michael hesitated a little ; 
 
136 'THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 the eyes appealed to him, and stirred deeper, better 
 feelings, but he went on, " I can't deny I'd like to see 
 you mistress of the village, and laughing at all the 
 Durlmouth lot." 
 
 Esther smiled. 
 
 " It would make them all feel savage," she said. 
 Then she jumped up from the rug, and kissing her 
 father's forehead as she went by, ran into the wash- 
 house to fill the kettle. 
 
 He could hear her humming to herself, and when 
 she returned her expression was lively as usual, and 
 her tongue ran on in chatter designed to avoid the 
 subject under recent discussion. But though Esther 
 chattered and avoided the subject, an uneasy feeling 
 clouded her natural high spirits ; and directly she 
 was alone the light went out of her eyes, and the lines 
 of her face drooped. She slept but little the night 
 after; and the following afternoon found her footsteps 
 turning almost in spite of herself to the little cottages 
 at the corner. She wanted in syite of her natural 
 reserve to speak to a woman. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey's two apple-trees were bending under 
 the weight of ripening fruit ; the old pear-tree next 
 door was making a brave show, and the mulberry 
 against the cottage wall was a prey to busy wasps. 
 Autumn had set her stamp on the two little 
 gardens, and as Esther looked she thought with a 
 faint sinking of the heart of the winter, with money 
 difficulties and illness, and the spring with its growing 
 dread of debt incurred. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey greeted her with delight, supported by 
 active demonstrations from Trixie, who had of late 
 shown a growing interest in, and affection for, Esther, 
 not only as a friend of his mistress, but as a personal 
 matter also. 
 
 But in five minutes the pilot's widow perceived that 
 Esther's mind was uneasy ; her bright eyes watched 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 1 37 
 
 the girl's efforts to be unconscious, and noted the 
 dark circles round her eyes ; however, being a wise 
 woman, she said nothing. 
 
 Esther wandered about the room with uncertain 
 purpose, looking at the curiosities, and finally standing 
 for two minutes with Stephen's photograph in her 
 hand ; setting it down she said aloud, " Isn't it exactly 
 like him, kind Steve." Then she came across the room 
 and sat down on the hearthrug, in her favourite 
 attitude, staring at the fire, and stroking Trixie's 
 rough back. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey," she began suddenly. 
 
 " Eh, my dear," answered the little woman. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey, the miller — wants to marry me." 
 
 There was a faint exclamation in reply to this 
 announcement, but Esther, having once broken the 
 ice, did not pause. 
 
 " He came to dad yesterday, and said he wanted to 
 marry me ; and dad was pleased — of course he was 
 pleased — and he wants me to " 
 
 "And what do you want?" asked Mrs. Fearey, 
 sitting down on the edge of a chair near, and folding 
 her small hands in her lap. 
 
 " Well," Esther clasped her hands round her knees, 
 and looked at the fire, frowning, " well, I don't know 
 why I shouldn't." 
 
 " Do you love him ? " Mrs. Fearey's voice was very 
 quiet. 
 
 Esther shook her head. " No, of course not. Why 
 I don't seem to have even looked at him hardly." 
 
 " Would you marry a man you didn't love ? " 
 
 There was a little pause, then Esther said — 
 
 " I don't mind him, one way or the other, you see. 
 Dad says he's very rich. He's got houses in Rock- 
 hampton, and money in two banks, and he pretty near 
 owns the village." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey waved her hand impatiently. 
 
138 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " I don't see what all that's got to do with love." 
 
 " But it's got to do with living," said Esther, with a 
 little hard laugh. 
 
 " If you don't live according to the Almighty's own 
 law, you won't make much of it," replied Mrs. Fearey 
 quietly. " It was His plan that man and wife should 
 love each other, and be all in all to each other, ' for- 
 saking all other,' the Book says. I never heard the 
 Bible says we're right to marry people we ' don't 
 mind' for the sake of houses, or money in twenty 
 banks." 
 
 Esther moved restlessly. 
 
 " I don't see that it matters really very much," she 
 said impatiently. " If I loved any one else it would be 
 different. But I don't care, anyway ; it isn't as if I 
 disliked Mr. Emmett, either, I dare say he's nice enough. 
 And then" — she laughed a little — "just think how 
 they'd all feel in the village. Mrs. Kentfield and Mrs. 
 Saunders, and all those horrid people. Dad would be 
 above the whole lot. I should be mistress of the 
 whole village. He said to dad I could have a carriage, 
 he'd do anything for me." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey puckered up her thin lips, and looked 
 straight in front of her. Esther looked round at her 
 with a little laugh, but there was no smile on the 
 sharp face. 
 
 " I don't know that a feeling of spite and revenge 
 and getting the better of people makes it all any 
 better," she said. 
 
 "It isn't only for that, Mrs. Fearey," said the girl, 
 flushing. " There is lots more behind, you know, about 
 the money, I mean. We haven't had a penny 
 coming in of late, and you know dad won't be able 
 to use his foot for weeks, perhaps not all winter. 
 We never meant to use that money, but we can't help 
 it ; it's going and going, save as I will," her voice 
 trembled, and she stopped, biting her lips, and staring 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 1 39 
 
 hard at the red embers that seemed to jump and 
 dazzle before her misty eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey bent forward and laid one little hard 
 hand on the girl's shoulder. 
 
 "Trust to the Almighty," she said gently. " My 
 dear, don't run against your own nature. You're not 
 the sort to be happy this way, you think. Don't try 
 and put troubles right by doing more wrong. Many 
 a foolish man or woman thinks they're going to escape 
 a bit of hardness by flying in the face of the dear 
 Lord's ways. You can't do it and prosper. Esther 
 Carne, you believe an old woman who has learned to 
 trust her God in over sixty years of uphill life ; never 
 you try and escape trouble by doing what your own 
 heart tells you is wrong. If His Blessing isn't on it, 
 you'll only be storing up for yourself years of bitter 
 regret. Your father did a wrong thing letting you go 
 that journey to satisfy his own pride ; but if he lets 
 you go a life's journey for the same reason, the 
 punishment will come back on him some day, and 
 he'll live to see it was a great sin." 
 
 Esther listened, impressed but unconvinced. To a 
 girl the reality of life is less apparent than the 
 accessories, as a rule. The immediate advantages 
 seemed evident ; the long years to middle age with 
 every day in intimate relation to Mr. Emmett did not 
 appear to her in the same way. 
 
 " Well, I'm not married yet," she said, lifting her 
 beautiful eyes to the old woman's face with a look of 
 deprecation. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey sighed. 
 
 " My dear, you must say ' yes ' or ' no.' " 
 
 " Oh, there's heaps of time," said Esther, nervously 
 curling Trixie's shaggy coat round her fingers. 
 
 "You won't find there's ever time to hesitate in 
 playing with hearts and lives," said the old woman 
 sadly. " Go home, lass, and tell your father you can't 
 
140 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 think of doing it ; not unless you love the man first, 
 that is." 
 
 Esther got up from the rug, and, turning with a 
 quick motion, kissed the little woman's anxious face. 
 
 " Don't you worry about me, Mrs. Fearey," she 
 said laughing, " I'm not worth it." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, don't you say that," cried the little 
 woman with a quick gesture ; " every soul is worth all 
 the world in the eyes of the dear Lord. ' What shall 
 a man give in exchange for his soul ? ' Never forget 
 that He died to save it ; once you feel that you could 
 never say it's worth nothing." 
 
 Esther looked a little distressed ; she had spoken 
 lightly, idly. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey, you are very good," she said 
 wistfully, " I wish I could be good like you." 
 
 The pilot's widow shook her head. 
 
 " When you are like me, dear lass, you'll know it 
 isn't a question of ' goodness,' the Lord be praised, 
 but a question of love. We'd be sad souls indeed if 
 we'd only our own goodness to look to." Mrs. 
 Fearey took the girl's hands, and holding them in her 
 own small ones, roughened with many years of hard 
 work, she smiled up into the beautiful face above her. 
 
 " There, I'll say no more ; I talk too much ; but I'm 
 an old woman, and I seem to grieve when I think 
 young ones may be going to spoil their lives at the 
 outset ; and, Esther, lass " — the little woman hesitated 
 in what she was trying to say. " Don't fret too much 
 about the debt ; even if you were to find that — that 
 the man who holds the mortgage is a hard man — or — 
 anything like that ; not that I know anything about 
 it, but it's better to lose everything in the world 
 than not be true to your own self and your own 
 best feelings. That's all ; that's all I mean ; not to 
 frighten you, lass." 
 
 But when Esther was gone, Mrs. Fearey sat down 
 
ESTHER HESITATES 141 
 
 again before the fire and rocked herself to and fro, 
 muttering and shaking her head. Presently a slow 
 tear gathered and trickled down the sharp face. 
 Trixie saw it, and gave vent to a sudden sharp howl, 
 following it up by two or three long shivering whines. 
 
 " Hush, hush, lad," said Mrs. Fearey, wiping her 
 eyes. 
 
 But the voice of Trixie's woe had travelled to the 
 next cottage ; and presently there was a low tap on 
 the door, which was just ajar ; it was gently pushed 
 open, and old Mary's soft white face looked in 
 anxiously. 
 
 " There's nothing wrong, Emma Fearey ? I heard 
 the dog cry out ; so unlike him ; I couldn't help 
 looking in to see." 
 
 Mary saw that the face raised to meet her was 
 sharpened by some sorrow, and the bright eyes were 
 dimmed under swollen lids. She came further into 
 the kitchen, sympathy showing in every line of her 
 gentle face. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey smoothed her eyes and forehead with 
 both hands as though to scrub cobwebs from them. 
 " I'm an untrusting old woman, Mary Richards, and 
 that's about it. I was fretting about a sorrow I seem 
 to see coming on my poor boy. It's like me to go 
 preaching faith to other people and not to have 
 enough myself when a cloud gathers." 
 
 " Perhaps the rain won't fall, Emma Fearey," said 
 the gentle old woman, smiling; and without asking 
 questions about the trouble which her friend did not 
 seem to wish to communicate, she sat down on the 
 other side of the fire and talked awhile in her soft 
 voice. Then the two went in together next door to 
 help poor Susan to bed ; Mrs. Fearey her own brave 
 self again, if a little pale and " trembly on the legs " as 
 she mentioned to Trixie, though to no one else. 
 
 Esther, meanwhile, returned home thinking. Mrs. 
 
142 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Fearey's advice, her strong urging, had crystallized the 
 girl's vague indifference into more definite objection. 
 The strong words of the pilot's widow, and more than 
 her words, her manner and voice, had brought before 
 Esther's mind the reality of the thing she was playing 
 with. 
 
 " I shall tell dad I can't," she thought as she 
 entered the gate, and her heart felt lighter as she ran 
 up the path. 
 
 Michael looked round as she entered ; his eyes 
 were brighter, and there was a look of interest in his 
 melancholy face. 
 
 " There you are, my girl, you ought to have been 
 here. The miller's been down again." 
 
 Esther flushed uneasily. 
 
 " He's set on you as if he was twenty-four," went on 
 Michael triumphantly, " quite a boy for being in love. 
 He came to know what we'd got to say to his offer, 
 and he wanted to see you." 
 
 " What did you say, dad ? " asked Esther quickly. 
 
 " I told him you didn't care for any one else, and 
 you hadn't said ' no' ; you could see in a minute how 
 pleased he was." 
 
 "Dad!" cried the girl, "how could you ? — he'll think 
 I meant ' yes/ " 
 
 " Well," said Carne rather sullenly, " it was quite 
 true. You can't go saying a thing one day, and back- 
 ing out of it the next." 
 
 " I never said I'd marry him," said Esther 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Well, it came to the same thing, so far as I can 
 remember. You said you'd try and like him, and you 
 didn't say ' no.' " 
 
 " I'm not promised to him," went on the girl, 
 sitting down by the table and pushing her cloud of 
 hair from her forehead. 
 
 Carne made no answer. 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' 143 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ' SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' 
 
 ,N two or three days the only subject dis- 
 cussed in Durlmouth was the proposed 
 marriage of the miller and Esther Carne. 
 Mrs. Fearey had said nothing. The 
 Carnes had said nothing; but the miller 
 himself was far too independent of criticism to trouble 
 about keeping silence when he had decided on a 
 course of action, and therefore mentioned to Saunders 
 that he was intending to marry again in the course of 
 the ensuing summer, and that the bride would be 
 Esther Carne. 
 
 Saunders received the news in a stunned silence; 
 he had not even the presence of mind to congratulate 
 his master, but went about his work dazed. Needless 
 to say the news did not take long to spread when 
 Mrs. Saunders realized that such a calamity was to 
 fall upon Durlmouth. And if Michael Carne had 
 heard all that was said he would probably have 
 enjoyed his triumph to the full. 
 
 But he was a close prisoner to the house and 
 garden. October was ushered in by mildest quiet 
 days ; still days, when sound travelled long distances, 
 and floating leaves seemed to take a long time to 
 reach the ground. 
 
 The doctor held out hope of a speedy cure, but 
 the leg remained helpless ; and Michael's own great 
 capacity for fretting and making the worst of things, 
 militated against a quick recovery, and kept his 
 health uncertain. He had only one satisfaction and 
 relief, and that was his freedom from monetary 
 anxiety in the future. The nightmare of anxiety 
 about the mortgage did not now prevent his sleeping, 
 
144 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 because next summer Esther would marry the miller, 
 and the miller had promised that no further difficulties 
 of the sort should trouble them. 
 
 Michael Carne had himself told Mr. Emmett about 
 the debt on the cottage, thinking he was in honour 
 bound to keep nothing back, and Mr. Emmett had 
 received the news without comment or question, 
 simply saying that Carne need not trouble about such 
 a small matter, and that it should be arranged that he 
 might live in the cottage all his days, that it would be 
 Esther's afterwards, and dismissed the subject. 
 
 Esther's position was one of greatest difficulty for 
 a girl of the nature she possessed. She loved to be 
 loved. For that reason the antagonism of the village, 
 and the unfriendly spirit manifested had hurt her far 
 more than it would have hurt one of less loving 
 nature. She was far more anxious to please than 
 her reserved bearing betrayed ; praise and admiration 
 were a delight to her ; not because she was vain, but 
 because the approval of others was a thing she eagerly 
 sought without knowing how much it affected her. 
 Her capability of love was deep and faithful, and her 
 power of sympathy wide and sincere. She could not 
 bear to refuse, she could not bear to hurt, she would 
 always rather give way than not, even when her strong 
 reasoning power warned her she made a mistake. 
 " Her love for her father had been the moving power 
 of her life ; it was a deep, faithful affection, with some- 
 thing of protection in it for his weaknesses, and 
 something of tolerance for his mistakes ; though 
 neither of these elements detracted from the strength 
 of the devotion. To see him happy had been her 
 object in life, and for it she had sacrificed all sorts of 
 natural wishes, without being the least aware that she 
 was unselfish. The instinct of self-sacrifice was very 
 strong in Esther Carne, her own necessities the last 
 thing as a rule that ever occurred to her, and to see 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE TTIM ' 145 
 
 her father's gloomy eyes lighten with pleasure, an 
 abiding joy worth any effort. 
 
 It may be easy to realize then how difficult was her 
 position at the present crisis. She did not mind 
 poverty and worry for herself, but she dreaded it for 
 Michael, with his rather morbid way of exaggerating 
 the darkness of a dark cloud. He was weak and 
 irritable ; his physique run down by confinement 
 and worry. He looked thinner and greyer. As he 
 dragged himself out with the help of two sticks to sit 
 in a sheltered corner and enjoy the sunshine of the 
 still days, she saw that he stooped, and that his tall 
 wiry frame had lost its look of energy and endurance. 
 His one interest and excitement was the prospect of 
 his daughter's brilliant future. Not that he talked a 
 great deal or boasted, but he took a quiet satisfaction 
 in the secure future ; the gradual melting of the little 
 store of money did not depress him, and he looked at 
 the cottage with a sense of peaceful possession, after 
 making little plans for small improvements. 
 
 With all this dailybefore her eyes, nothing more diffi- 
 cult than Esther's position could have been imagined, 
 for a woman of Esther's temperament. To disappoint 
 him, to hurt him and destroy his castle in the air, was 
 a far harder task for her than offering herself up, to 
 please him. Thus the days passed ; and the position 
 drifted. Mrs. Fearey said no more. Esther went 
 to see her often, and tried by every means to lift the 
 shadow that seemed to have fallen over the bright 
 courage of the sharp face ; but they tacitly avoided the 
 subject of the miller. 
 
 As to Mr. Emmett himself, it must be said that he 
 behaved with consideration. He was quite aware that 
 Esther did not care for him, but as she did not care for 
 any one else this troubled him very little. He was wise 
 in his wooing ; for he did not tease the girl with any 
 assumption of authority, or with lover's attentions ; but 
 
 K 
 
146 C THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 talked to her pleasantly when he came to see her 
 father, which he did fairly often, bringing a bottle of 
 good wine, newspapers, a fine fowl, or even a goose. 
 
 There was no doubt that he was greatly attracted by 
 the beautiful high-spirited girl he proposed to marry, 
 and the best side of his nature came out in the self- 
 control he displayed in his wooing. Esther found him 
 pleasant, and saw that to Michael his visits were a 
 pleasure and a benefit, and thus it was that though, as 
 she told herself, "she was not promised to him," yet, still 
 the situation was drifting into acquiescence on her part, 
 and security on the miller's. 
 
 Matters stood exactly so, when Stephen Weld came 
 back again after a longer turn than usual. He heard 
 the news at Salterne from one of the Durlmouth boats. 
 
 A man of weaker character would probably have 
 betrayed his disappointment ; in which case it would 
 have been " all over the town " that Esther Carne had 
 jilted Steve Weld for the miller. Stephen knew this, 
 and he considered Esther's name first. No man should 
 cast a stone at the woman he loved. Besides, thought 
 the pilot, whose mind was essentially just and clear 
 — " If I loved her I've only myself to blame ; she 
 never looked at me ; she never thought of me, so far as 
 I know." He did not attempt to persuade himself that 
 Esther had led him on ; he had simply laid his heart 
 at her feet, without encouragement, and the girl had 
 trodden on the treasure, unknowing. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey's nervous excitement when they met 
 proved to Stephen that she had something to tell him, 
 and it also proved to him that the little woman had 
 penetrated his secret before his departure. 
 
 Going straight to the point, as was his wont, Steve 
 put his two powerful hands gently on his aunt's slender 
 shoulders, and turned her round to meet his gaze. 
 
 " Aunt," he said, " I heard in the town that— that 
 Esther is going to marry the miller," 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' 147 
 
 Mrs. Fearey, looking up into his strong face, saw lines 
 there which were not there before, and her loving heart 
 ached ; she was just going to speak, but Stephen went 
 on checking her eager sympathy. 
 
 " Don't you think, aunt, that she ever gave me a 
 word or look to raise the bit of hope in my heart. It 
 was all on my side, you saw that ; you told me love 
 would breed love. You knew I'd been taken with her ; 
 I didn't know you knew how deep it had gone. I tell 
 you, aunt, I — I didn't know myself till I knew I'd 
 lost her." The muscles round his mouth quivered — 
 he paused a moment and then recovering command 
 went on quietly, " She never gave me word or 
 look that she mightn't have given her brother if 
 she'd had one. I could see she didn't think, and 
 I thought she was so young that I'd wait till she 
 grew to want me, perhaps ; I never thought she loved 
 Emmett." 
 
 This was too much for Mrs. Fearey ; she shook her 
 head vigorously, and he stopped surprised. 
 
 " She doesn't — she doesn't love the miller." 
 
 " Doesn't love him," exclaimed Stephen, dropping 
 his hands from her shoulders, and clenching them 
 slowly as they fell to his sides. " Then what is she 
 marrying him for ? " 
 
 "To please her father," cried Mrs. Fearey. "Oh, 
 it's a coil of worry, lad, and God forgive me if I'm 
 wrong, but it seems to me no good will come of it ; no, 
 don't you speak, wait a moment. It's nobody's fault, 
 and it's everybody's fault. The miller fell in love 
 with Esther, he went to Michael and asked if he could 
 keep company with his daughter, making promises 
 full of advantage to them both. Michael Carne was 
 pleased at the prospect for his girl — that was natural 
 — he sort of put it before her what a good thing it 
 would be if she could get to like Mr. Emmett ; seeing 
 she cared for no one else, not as he knew, or she knew 
 
148 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 either. Esther, she didn't like it at first. ' I've never 
 thought about the miller/ she said." 
 
 Stephen straightened his back and a light shone in 
 his clear eyes, but Mrs. Fearey, breathless with excite- 
 ment, put up her hand to deprecate interruption, and 
 continued — 
 
 " She hadn't thought about man, or marrying ; but, 
 there, it's her nature to want to please ; she loves her 
 father beyond all the world. She didn't say 'Yes,' 
 but she didn't say ( No' exactly. She wouldn't promise 
 herself ; but the miller just took it for granted ; and 
 Michael was so pleased that she hasn't the heart to 
 spoil his pleasure. The miller has been very good to her 
 father these bad times, and then there was the money." 
 
 " What about money ? " demanded Stephen almost 
 fiercely. 
 
 " I don't know if I ought to say," said the little 
 woman tremulously, " but I can't make you understand 
 quite without." 
 
 " Don't tell me anything if they told you not to 
 mention it," said the pilot. 
 
 " She didn't ask me not to speak," said Mrs. Fearey, 
 " only it was their business, lad, not mine, and a still 
 tongue's always best. The fact is they raised a bit of 
 money on the house — a mortgage for one year. The 
 Rockhampton lawyer did it for them. It seemed a 
 simple business when Michael was in full work, but 
 this accident has thrown them back so that Esther 
 has had to use all the money, or most of it, that they 
 meant to pay back." 
 
 Stephen's face clouded as he listened. When his 
 aunt paused he asked a question or two about the 
 amount raised, the interest, the conditions of the loan, 
 and so on. Mrs. Fearey told him what she knew, for 
 both Esther and Michael had spoken before her of 
 details at different times, and she understood their 
 position. 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' 149 
 
 The pilot considered quietly, leaning against the 
 door-post and staring over the little garden, across 
 the road, at the noble rise of the sweeping down in 
 the distance. He was not a rapid thinker, but his 
 conclusions when arrived at were very just. In this 
 case the conclusion seemed on the surface very 
 simple. 
 
 " I suppose they have no reason to think that the 
 person who has advanced the loan will be hard on 
 them," he said at last. " If the interest is paid the 
 mortgage can be renewed. That will give Carne 
 time to put it right next summer. The cottage is 
 worth a good deal more than that, with the land. It 
 isn't pleasant to live in debt, but it must be better to 
 do that than to marry a man you've no love for," and 
 he sighed impatiently. Mrs. Fearey made as though 
 she would speak, and then paused. 
 
 Stephen looked round at her ; their eyes met, and 
 something in hers made him exclaim with sudden 
 energy of decision — 
 
 " Aunt, you're keeping something back — what is 
 it?" 
 
 "Steve, I don't know if I ought to say. It's a 
 suspicion, an idea ; I've no ground, or very little, for 
 it ; no proof." 
 
 "What is it ? " said the pilot, watching her distressed 
 face ; " never mind if you've no proof, tell me what's 
 in your mind ; you can trust me, aunt." 
 
 And Mrs. Fearey thus encouraged went on — 
 
 " It's been in my mind a long while, ever since the 
 day you came back last time. Don't you remember 
 telling me you saw him in the garden of old Tewkes- 
 bury's cottage, looking round ? " 
 
 " Him" said Stephen frowning ; " you mean 
 Emmett. Just so." He paused. " Well ! " 
 
 " Well," went on Mrs. Fearey, dropping her voice, 
 " then it flew into my mind that he is the man." 
 
150 C THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " What, the man that holds the mortgage ? " 
 
 The little woman nodded vigorously. 
 
 There was another pause, then Stephen said slowly, 
 with a man's sense of logic — 
 
 " I can't see that his walking round the cottage 
 should be proof that he holds the mortgage. It was 
 natural he should feel a curiosity about the place." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey shook her head deprecatingly. 
 
 "I don't say it's a proof; the thought jumped into 
 my mind and there it stayed. I seem to see that it 
 is so." 
 
 " The firm they went to were Emmett's lawyers," 
 said Stephen, "didn't you say, aunt ?" 
 
 Mrs. Fearey nodded. 
 
 "And the miller has been wanting to buy the 
 place these years. He made old Tewkesbury a fancy 
 offer, and when the old man refused, he said he'd wait 
 till he was gone. He dislikes to see that corner of 
 Big Field not belonging to his land, I fancy." 
 
 " It may be as you think," said the pilot thoughtfully, 
 after a long pause. 
 
 " Aye, lad, it is," said Mrs. Fearey, with the decision 
 of absolute conviction. 
 
 Stephen smiled, but it was a smile without joy in it. 
 
 " I'm going for a bit of a stroll, aunt," he said, with 
 an obvious effort, " I'll be back again by supper-time," 
 and, gently refusing Trixie's offers of companionship, 
 he strode off into the dusk of the autumn twilight. 
 
 " It was good of you to want to go with him, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Fearey, shutting the door when she 
 could no longer see the tall figure of the pilot. " It 
 was like mother's own child ; but there, you couldn't 
 have done it ; your will's a deal better than your 
 power. Ah, Trixie, lad, there's ever so much we'd do 
 if we could but do it; we must leave it, and that's 
 where the trial comes." 
 
 Stephen walked on and on straight ahead, con- 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' I 5 I 
 
 sidering very little whither he was walking, except 
 that it was away from the village. Following the 
 Rockhampton road first, he presently turned off it, 
 through a rickety field-gate, and tramped over the 
 rough ground towards the edge of the cliff. 
 
 A mile beyond Durlmouth there was another cove ; 
 a lonely curve in the coast-line, to which the great 
 cliffs dipped in shelving terraces. 
 
 Some time, once, there had been an upheaval here 
 and a landslip, which formed what was called in those 
 parts a "bunny." The strand was firm glistening 
 sand, and big bits of cliff had fallen down time after 
 time, and become bedded ; not even the ocean rollers 
 that came racing in from the south-west having 
 sufficient strength to dislodge them. 
 
 To this lonely little bay Stephen instinctively bent 
 his steps. He used to come here when a lad because 
 he felt like the king of a desert island, and because 
 the noise and wrangling of the boys down by the 
 quays at the creek worried him. He had been here 
 in all weathers. When the sea was like glass, and 
 Black Rock Bill stood out a long blue spur to sea- 
 wards farther down ; when the sand was glistening 
 gold in the summer sun, and the tiny ripples stole 
 round the foot of the fallen rock giants. He had 
 been when the waves rolled in, green and transparent, 
 with a lace edge of white curling trimming ; when 
 the sky was blue with a rushing under-current of 
 fleecy white, and the gulls were swirling and shrieking. 
 And he had been when the Black Rock spur was 
 lost in driving, biting sleet, when walls of black water 
 thundered up from the gloom and poured overwhelm- 
 ing over the rocks, shaking them in their sand-beds, 
 and sweeping away to the foot of the broken cliff 
 beyond ; when the whole little bay seemed alive 
 with sobs and moans of storm-fiends, and the mad 
 riot of winds and waves at their wildest games. 
 
152 'THE BROWN BIRD 5 
 
 To-night, it was neither of these. Grey and still ; 
 far away a low rumbling and murmur of something ; 
 people said the "bunny" moaned when a storm was 
 coming ; grey water heaving and restless ; grey sky 
 fading into night ; and the faint chill of autumn 
 sadness on all. 
 
 Stephen followed a natural path down into the 
 cove, one he had used many a time, and towards 
 which his feet turned naturally; springing down from 
 rock to rock, sliding on the shale, he reached the 
 water's edge, and there sat down to think out alone 
 what was in his mind. 
 
 All that his aunt had told him, in her torrent of 
 excited narration required consideration. Stephen 
 never jumped at conclusions ; they were formed after 
 rather slow judgment, and once formed he did not 
 easily change his mind. 
 
 He had of course made up his mind on first hearing 
 of Esther's coming marriage, that she loved the miller ; 
 on learning to the contrary a wild sense of relief had 
 made his heart leap and beat again, and he had come 
 here to be alone, that he might realize what it was 
 that he hoped for. 
 
 With elbows resting on his knees, and square chin 
 sunk on his strong palms, the pilot stared out ahead 
 at the heaving grey plain, and slowly realized that 
 his hope was delusive and unattainable ; for him that 
 was, it might not have been so for another man. 
 
 Esther was the point in question : Esther's happiness, 
 Esther's comfort, Esther's good. 
 
 Granted that she did not love the miller now ; she 
 would probably some day. She liked him evidently, 
 and she had no thought of himself (Stephen) but one 
 of good fellowship. The miller was wealthy, and 
 could give her every possible advantage ; he (Stephen) 
 earned good money, and was quite well enough off to 
 have given her a good home, and kept her in easy 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM ' I 53 
 
 circumstances ; but there were the old women to con- 
 sider. Stephen had never thought of himself and his 
 possible future needs. He was not only his aunt's 
 main support, but he had been in the habit of doing 
 so much for the two old widows, that any change in 
 his manner of living would deprive them of much 
 they had become accustomed to almost without 
 knowing it. Had it not been for his quiet generosity 
 all these years, there would have been money in the 
 bank to help Esther meet this debt, and set her free 
 to follow her own heart without bias of circumstances. 
 As it was, there was little more than ten pounds ; for 
 it was not long since he had insisted on better doctor's 
 attendance for Susan, and settled the bill himself. 
 
 Had Esther loved him they would have waited 
 together, she being so young ; there would soon have 
 been enough for all needs without turning back from 
 the duty he had set himself. It may be said that to 
 Stephen the idea never occurred that he would shirk 
 that self-imposed duty. The patient old women 
 depended on him in their old age and weakness ; 
 moreover, he must never allow his aunt's keen sight 
 to pierce the fact that this happiness might have been 
 possible but for his responsibilities, or the bread she 
 eat would be bitter to her generous and loving nature. 
 
 Anything would have been possible if Esther had 
 loved him, and the pilot's strong figure seemed to be- 
 come so immovable as almost to want breath, as the 
 wave passed over his soul, and retreated, leaving it 
 to realize that the dream of his life was impossible ; 
 that he had awakened to love only to put it from him 
 for ever. 
 
 As he could do little or nothing himself, and the 
 miller could do so much, he considered that he was 
 in honour bound not even to show his love for Esther ; 
 though she did not love Mr. Emmett, and had not 
 perhaps promised herself actually as yet. 
 
154 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 With the returning thought of the miller came a 
 sense of indignation to Stephen Weld. He sat up 
 and threw back his square shoulders, and restlessly- 
 opened and closed his strong hands. 
 
 "The man that can influence a girl's conduct by- 
 bringing money to bear that way isn't worthy of her. 
 More than that, he's a coward ; the girl's pushed in a 
 corner by worries and troubles ; he's taking unfair 
 advantage ; he's no better than a coward." 
 
 It was the worst Stephen ever said of any man, 
 and he never said it unless he felt a man deserved 
 the stricture. 
 
 His thoughts ran on. 
 
 " And if he is a coward, which he is, what might 
 he not do in the event of Esther awakening to a feel- 
 ing that she could not marry for advantage and liking 
 merely ! If Mrs. Fearey's instinct was true, the miller 
 held a greater power over the father and daughter 
 than even Esther knew. If he were a coward, why 
 should he scruple to use the power ? " 
 
 Stephen looked down at his powerful brown hands 
 and smiled sadly to himself. 
 
 <( Not much use, for all you can do more than any 
 other hands for twenty miles east and west of Durl- 
 mouth." The sense of helplessness, which is perhaps 
 the hardest of all things to bear, was weighing on his 
 soul ; and it was new to Stephen, for never in his life 
 yet had he met with a difficulty that he had not faced 
 and overcome by patience, judgment, or strength. 
 
 When he got up to go, the cove was wrapped in 
 deep shadow, but on the heaving face of the sea, and 
 above on the cliffs the reflection of the past sunset 
 left a little light. 
 
 Stephen looked up and began slowly to ascend out 
 of the darkness to the lighter darkness above. He 
 made no noise, moving with certain footsteps of old 
 habit up the broken rocks. As he neared the top he 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM' 155 
 
 seemed to see a figure standing motionless on the 
 bleak edge, looking out to sea, but thinking it was 
 his fancy, dismissed the idea. Who would come alone 
 to Rocky Cove after dark ? 
 
 But his keen sight had not deceived him, and as he 
 gained the level he saw distinctly at no great distance 
 a tall figure standing almost at the edge of the cliff, 
 looking out to sea. He was a little puzzled in the 
 dusk at the shape of the figure, which seemed to him 
 peculiar until he realized that it was a woman with a 
 shawl over her head. 
 
 Perhaps he made some noise stumbling over the 
 rough ground, for she turned from her quiet contem- 
 plation, and looked round, but not with any haste or 
 appearance of trepidation. 
 
 " Steve, Steve Weld ! " 
 
 The pilot started forward ; the embodiment of his 
 thoughts was here, and her voice chased out of his 
 mind for the moment the memory of his resolutions. 
 In another second he was holding Esther's hand, and 
 searching her face in the gloom, but the shadow of 
 the shawl hid what the night left revealed, and the 
 girl did not throw back the folds as she looked up at 
 him. 
 
 " I knew you by your height," she said, with a little 
 laugh. " You looked like a giant in the dusk, Steve. 
 Have you just come home ? " 
 
 That afternoon, Stephen told her. 
 
 " And you have seen your aunt ? " 
 
 There was a little nervous anxiety on both sides, 
 though Esther wondered why she should feel so in- 
 terested in what Mrs. Fearey might have told her 
 nephew. She turned her face homewards and they 
 moved on side by side. 
 
 Suddenly Stephen said — 
 
 " Yes, I saw Aunt Fearey, and she told me all the 
 news. That is, she told me what I had heard in 
 
156 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Salterne was true, and that you were going to marry 
 the miller." 
 
 He tried to speak with kind indifference ; that is, 
 without personal feeling except interest as a friend, 
 and succeeded so well that Esther was conscious of a 
 little pang, a faint sense of loneliness. 
 
 " There is nothing settled," she said abruptly. 
 
 " Well, I suppose Mr. Emmett thinks it is settled 
 or he wouldn't have said that he was going to be 
 married in the summer ; and Mr. Carne seems to 
 think it is settled." 
 
 " Oh, father ! — yes, I expect he does." There was 
 a tone of impatience in the girl's voice which had a 
 tired sound in it, unnoticed by Stephen, who was not 
 a very close observer of moods. " It would be a very 
 great benefit to father," she went on, with a desire to 
 justify what the pilot had not criticized. 
 
 " Ah, I expect it would. The miller can do a good 
 deal for him ; and for you too, Esther," said Stephen 
 gently. 
 
 " It doesn't matter about me." The girl was staring 
 straight ahead, the outline of her face hidden by the 
 shawl. " It's all right about me, so long as father's 
 comfortable." 
 
 The pilot could have cried out against this doctrine 
 as he looked down at the girlish figure by his side, 
 and remembered her motherless, unadvised ; all the 
 protective manhood in his nature rose against the 
 sacrifice of her life. 
 
 Words rose to his lips ; then he remembered that 
 he had nothing to offer in comparison to the miller. 
 If Esther accepted him, she and her father would 
 probably lose the cottage ; he could not ask her to 
 sacrifice so many advantages for his sake ; the words 
 died unspoken, and the two walked on side by 
 side. 
 
 As he opened the gate, for her to pass into the road 
 
'SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM 1 57 
 
 he said, suddenly remembering her lonely vigil on 
 the cliff— 
 
 " Not many people come to the cove alone ; you're 
 not nervous ? " 
 
 " Why should I be nervous ? " said the girl quietly. 
 " Down Cornwall way I used to go on the cliffs a good 
 bit alone ; I soon found out this place, and I come 
 here pretty often. There's such a noise down the 
 village way ; you can think up here in the quiet." 
 
 " It's quiet enough except for the sea," said the 
 pilot, " stormy weather it's grand. I've been here 
 ever since I was a bit of a lad ; you get fond of the 
 place, and seem to learn the face of it in fair and foul, 
 like the face of a friend." 
 
 Esther drew the shawl closer round her, a cold 
 hand seemed to clutch her heart; in one brief moment 
 the weight of life's responsibility rose before her and 
 shattered her light way of testing things by expediency 
 only. A little glimpse into the heart of life shook 
 her soul ; " fair and foul " must come to all ; how was 
 she arming herself for the battle ? The grave voice 
 of the pilot touched a chord in her that rang a note of 
 warning; why, she could hardly say, except that she 
 was sad to-night — " silly " she said to herself. 
 
 Stephen walked as far as the cottage with her, and 
 the rest of the way they said little, though neither 
 realized that they were silent. 
 
 " Won't you come in and see father ? " said the 
 girl. 
 
 " To-morrow if you'll have me," answered Stephen. 
 M I think aunt is a bit dull to-night." 
 
 The light from the door streamed down the path. 
 Michael had set it open for air as the night was so 
 still ; the shaft fell on Esther as she stood waiting, her 
 face turned homewards. 
 
 She was very white, or else the light made her 
 appear so ; the wrapping shawl and the cloud of 
 
158 ( THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 dusky hair making the paleness more pronounced 
 still. There were shadows round her large eyes in 
 which was an expression Stephen could not read — 
 wistful, restless, appealing, tormented ; something of 
 the troubled soul betrayed in their dark depths. 
 
 " You're not looking well, Esther," said Stephen 
 anxiously. 
 
 "You're not looking well, Stephen," repeated the girl, 
 with a sudden laugh. " Don't talk to me. No, really 
 I'm all right ; good-night," and she walked quickly 
 up the path, turning back once at the door to shade 
 her eyes and try to pierce the dark rendered darker 
 by the light within. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 
 
 TEPHEN WELD remained at Durlmouth 
 about a fortnight ; and all the time kept 
 his resolution with a quiet determination 
 that did not allow him to come one step 
 nearer to the woman he loved. He did 
 not betray his feeling by word or deed ; for he was 
 not one of the sort that makes a sacrifice and then 
 advertises it. It was part of his principles to trouble 
 no one with his own sorrows ; purely personal 
 sorrows ; considering that they probably had as 
 much to bear in other ways as he had, and not 
 wishing to add to their burdens. 
 
 Old Susan, weaker and quieter, was carried out 
 for two rides, on the mildest of the chill days ; and 
 the pilot did his best to persuade Carne to try the 
 chair, "to get a breath of air from the down," but 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 1 59 
 
 to no purpose. The Cornishman shook his head, 
 and refused u to be pulled about like an old woman !" 
 
 11 You ought to get out of the garden/' said Stephen. 
 
 Michael Carne turned away his head with a sound 
 of irritation ; disappointment and confinement were 
 trying to his temper. 
 
 Later on, in the garden, Esther went quietly up to 
 Stephen and pulled his sleeve ; he turned quickly with 
 a way he had in answering her, as though every word 
 she spoke was sacred. 
 
 " I know what dad's longing after," said the girl, 
 looking up into the strong grave face with confidence. 
 " It's Brown Bird. I believe if we could get him out 
 to sea a bit he'd pick up. / can't take him alone, 
 
 but young Dave would come if " and she looked 
 
 eagerly into his eyes. 
 
 " If I would help, eh ? " said the pilot, smiling. 
 " Why didn't you ask me before ? it's simple as paint." 
 
 " It seems a shame to take advantage of — of your 
 kindness," said Esther, a little flush stealing over her 
 soft cheeks to her ears. 
 
 The pilot looked at her. For a moment he seemed 
 about to speak ; then, his face set in additional square- 
 ness, the light died out of his clear eyes leaving a 
 little frown between the brows, and he said — 
 
 " Let's go in and ask him. We could go out to-day." 
 
 At first Michael demurred, chiefly at the trouble to 
 the pilot, but his desire was so strong that he allowed 
 his scruple to be overruled, and when Stephen went 
 off to hunt up young Dave, he was like a child in his 
 feverish excitement over the coming pleasure. 
 
 Stephen returned very quickly saying that Dave 
 was gone to the boat, and that he had come to help 
 Michael down to the quay, thinking he would like to 
 sit on board while the sails were run up. The three 
 started in high spirits, Esther and Stephen support- 
 ing Michael on either side, 
 
160 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Crossing the bridge they met the miller, who had 
 come out on seeing the brown sails stirring after so 
 many weeks of sleep. 
 
 " Hullo, Carne, glad to see you down here. Surely 
 you're not going out, though ? " 
 
 "I am, sir," said Michael, whose dark eyes were 
 shining with excitement. " I feel as if it would do 
 me a world of good. Steve Weld here is kind enough 
 to say he'll take the Bird out, and I can't refuse, I 
 feel to wish it so." 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Emmett, glancing at Stephen as 
 though he had but just noticed his presence, "morn- 
 ing, Weld " — his tone was patronizing. " You know 
 your own business best ; of course Esther is not 
 going." 
 
 Esther raised her head ; she had till now been 
 looking on the ground and kicking little stones 
 restlessly with her toe. 
 
 " I'm going with dad," she said quietly. 
 
 " I cannot allow it," said Mr. Emmett. " Esther's 
 position is not quite the same as it was, you must 
 recognize that. I don't wish her to go on the ketches, 
 doing man's work now ; I'll send one of the men from 
 the yard. Here, Saunders," and he turned slowly 
 towards the mill, strolling along with his hands in 
 his pockets, and a quiet air of authority. 
 
 Stephen said nothing ; but the lines of his mouth 
 seemed to harden. Michael stood resolute ; but 
 Esther flushed from brow to chin. 
 
 " Mr. Emmett," she called, and there was the 
 slightest tremble in her voice. 
 
 The miller turned round. Saunders had come out 
 of the mill at his master's call. 
 
 " I'm going with dad," repeated the girl, drawing 
 up her tall figure. 
 
 " Nonsense," said the miller sharply, he was not 
 accustomed to be questioned. 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 101 
 
 " I'm going with dad whenever I like, and he likes," 
 said the girl, her clear tones distinctly audible for 
 the benefit of Saunders and clustering mill-hands 
 in the doorway behind him. " It's no business of any 
 one else's. No one but dad has a right to order me ! " 
 
 " I certainly have the right to interfere when you do 
 things unsuitable to my position," said the miller, his 
 prominent eyes full of an expression that Michael had 
 never before seen, while a scarlet flush spread over his 
 fair face. " I will send one of my men to work the 
 boat with Weld, if she must go out, but I won't have 
 Esther working among the common villagers." 
 
 The colour faded entirely out of Esther's face as 
 she returned the miller's look. And it might almost 
 have been said that her eyes flashed, had such a thing 
 been possible ; such a fierce light shone in their dark 
 depths. 
 
 " I am a common villager," she said, with perfect 
 calmness, lowering her voice rather than raising it. 
 " And dad's a common villager ; so I'll work as they 
 do. Go on, Steve, we won't keep dad standing, it 
 tires him more than anything." And she moved 
 forward, ignoring the miller, who turned on his heel 
 and walked off to his house. 
 
 "You've offended him badly," said Carne, a few 
 minutes later as he sat down on the arrangement of 
 ropes and sails prepared for him ; he spoke uneasily. 
 
 " Dad," said Esther — her hands were trembling, but 
 otherwise she showed no sign of disturbance — " dad, 
 you're the last person in the world to let yourself be 
 ordered about by any one. What does it matter if he 
 is offended ?" 
 
 " There's the money, my girl, the money ; it binds 
 me hand and foot thinking about it. I couldn't bear 
 to lose the little place, in the face of all the villagers 
 too." 
 
 And Stephen heard what he said, though it was 
 spoken low. 
 
 L 
 
1 62 'THE BROWN BIRD 5 
 
 " Don't you fret, dear dad," answered the girl, " you 
 shan't lose the place," and Stephen heard her sigh as 
 she turned away. 
 
 Though the beginning was not auspicious, the sail 
 ended most successfully. 
 
 Michael seemed to breathe new life from the open 
 sea, and Esther had the happiness of seeing him sleep 
 that night as he had not slept for many weeks. A 
 few days after, Stephen Weld went away again, and 
 the miller came and made his peace. 
 
 It was certainly not Mr. Emmett's habit to humble 
 himself to any one, but he was greatly attracted by 
 Esther Carne, and her very daring and independence 
 made the attraction stronger. Had she been eager to 
 marry him, it is more than probable that the miller 
 would have thought nothing about it. Her indifference 
 and opposition, combined with her beauty and intelli- 
 gence, increased almost daily this first passion of the 
 man's life. The miller had never desired anything 
 before but money and power ; now, he desired to win 
 above all things this girl who did not want him, but 
 who put up with him for her father's sake. The 
 miller was not blind ; and he had no scruples in 
 using the power, which a man of more delicate 
 feelings of honour would have wished to forget, as a 
 lever for the attainment of a much-desired end. 
 
 Michael Carne was relieved when he saw that Mr. 
 Emmett bore no malice. 
 
 " He was very kind," said the master of Brown 
 Bird, looking at his daughter rather anxiously. 
 " He's not half a bad sort, the miller." 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders. She was restless 
 and pre-occupied. 
 
 " Is Steve Weld gone ? " asked Carne presently. 
 
 The girl nodded without speaking; there was a 
 dreamy look in her large eyes, and the lines round 
 her mouth drooped sadly. 
 
 " I think I'll go and see Mrs. Fearey presently, 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 163 
 
 dad," she said. " They'll be so lonely up at the two 
 cottages." 
 
 Stephen Weld came home once again before 
 Christmas, but the Carnes did not see much of him. 
 It was too cold to sail for pleasure, the weather being 
 also stormy and wet. Michael was better, and able 
 to get about alone with one stick, but he was greatly 
 aged and broken. The months of enforced idleness, 
 the setting aside of his boat for the others had been 
 a bitter trial ; his mind exaggerated the triumph of 
 his rivals, whom he pictured rejoicing at his long 
 weakness, whereas in reality the village was taken 
 up with its own concerns, and thinking far less about 
 the new-comers than they had done at first. In fact 
 there were many people in the little community who 
 were sorry for Esther and her father, and only wanted 
 a little encouragement to show a neighbourly spirit ; 
 but the Carnes gave them no opportunity. Esther 
 made her few purchases at the village shop without 
 entering into conversation ; never took the least 
 notice of small overtures, and prided herself on 
 keeping the Durlmouth folk at arm's-length. Michael 
 thought, and said, that if people " made up " to them 
 at all, it was only because Esther was going to marry 
 the miller ; therefore the breach widened, and the 
 Carnes lived for themselves only. 
 
 A soberness had come upon Mrs. Fearey in these 
 dull days. Trixie was very bad with the rheumatics, 
 and the two seldom went out. Esther went to see 
 them often, but the sharp tongue was not so gay, 
 and there seemed to be more lines in the small face, 
 while the bright eyes were not so bright. Mrs. Fearey 
 would have remained undimmed by any trouble that 
 visited herself, personally. Her faith in God was a 
 very real and practical support, but she was feeling 
 what she could not reach, the trouble of another 
 whom she loved far better than herself. Gladly would 
 she have lived blind, crippled, or suffering for the 
 
164 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 remainder of her days, to have given Stephen his 
 heart's desire. But she was condemned to see him 
 suffer, unable to reach him by any self-sacrifice. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey saw no way out of the difficulty. 
 Stephen himself, warned by his feeling, avoided 
 Esther on his second visit home. The few days in 
 her company, the sight of her beautiful face, the 
 sound of her voice, increased his torture a hundred- 
 fold. His love did not die because she was apparently 
 out of his reach ; it grew as he had watched her 
 struggles and uncertainty, her wavering purpose, and 
 impulsive changes. She was so sweet and generous- 
 hearted, so loving and helpless. The pilot found 
 that so far from losing interest in her, his absorption 
 in her life and happiness grew with every meeting, 
 and that it required all his great power of self-control 
 to prevent the passionate desire to take her in his 
 arms once for all, tell her to rest in his love, and 
 let him think and work for her. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey saw the agony of the struggle, while 
 on the other hand she knew that Esther had but ten 
 pounds left when the Christmas interest should be 
 paid ; that Michael would not be in full work till 
 the spring, and that he was depending wholly on the 
 miller's support and countenance. 
 
 Winter was a hard time for the old woman. Susan 
 was worse, and only kept from sinking by the care 
 and generosity of Stephen. Mary had seen the change 
 in the pilot's face, but characteristically she said 
 nothing; only adding one more petition to her patient 
 faithful prayers, that Steve's trouble should be light- 
 ened if it was well for him that it should be so. The 
 pilot's earnings from his last voyage melted, and he 
 saw them go with the one care that his old pensioners 
 should not know it was a pang. 
 
 He was not at home for Christmas, but a few days 
 afterwards brought him cheery and strong, brightening 
 the little houses like spring sunshine, as he set 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION l6$ 
 
 himself to put his own troubles in the background 
 and make the lives of the old women easier. 
 
 Esther heard he was come through a passing vision 
 of the little woman flying down to the village for 
 some extra groceries, as she was hanging out a few 
 clothes to dry in the cold winter sunshine. 
 
 " Hullo ! " she said, laughing, for a hasty shawl cast 
 over the felt hat added greatly to the odd appearance 
 of the small figure. " Where are you going so fast, 
 Mrs. Fearey ?" 
 
 "My boy's come home, and it's always the way. 
 I'm run out of two or three things just when I want 
 to do a bit of cooking." There was a spot of colour on 
 Mrs. Fearey's cheek, and her voice had its old clear ring. 
 
 " Stephen come back," said Esther. " I didn't 
 know he was expected." She found herself sticking the 
 clothes-peg so clumsily on the line that she pinched 
 her finger and let the clothes drop. 
 
 " Oh, you never can tell," said Mrs. Fearey gaily. 
 " It's just as the ships come in, or who gets taken off 
 first, I suppose. But there I must stop, I'm as busy 
 as can be." 
 
 " How is Baby ? " asked Esther, stooping to pick up 
 the fallen cloth and rising again with a flush spreading 
 to her ears and neck. 
 
 " Oh, he's not near so bad ; when he sees Steve he 
 got off his chair and quite jumped. Heart is what 
 Trixie wants ; he's been low-spirited of late. Again 
 and again have I said to him, ' Don't you lose heart, the 
 winter can't last for ever.' But there, he seemed so 
 down. 'Mother,' he's said to me often time, ' I'm 
 getting old, and I feel it in my bones.' Then I say, 
 ( Old, what nonsense ! What's fourteen ! ' I said, : and 
 your mother over sixty ? ' But there," — and the little 
 woman drew the shawl round her thin shoulders and 
 pursed her lips, " fourteen is old for a dog, and he 
 knows it ; you can't deceive Trixie, he knows as well 
 as well." 
 
l66 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 "Do send him to me when he can walk more 
 easily," said Esther, who seemed to herself to be 
 saying words for the sake of talking, while the song 
 of birds and joy of spring-time was welling up in her 
 heart. 
 
 " Oh, I will, I will, my dear. And he knows. ' Go 
 down village road and see Esther/ I say to him, ' and 
 if the gate's shut mind you call,' and he just says, ' All 
 right, mother,' and off he'll go." 
 
 " He hasn't been a long while," said the girl 
 smiling ; " I miss him dreadfully," and she waved her 
 hand gaily to the retreating figure. 
 
 " What a beauty the child's growing ! " muttered the 
 little woman to herself. " Her eyes were like stars 
 when she smiled. Ah well, who knows ? — perhaps the 
 Lord will interfere ; we must have patience." And she 
 trotted on her way talking to herself. 
 
 Esther carried in the empty basket, singing under 
 her breath. 
 
 " It's a long while since I heard you sing, my girl," 
 said Michael, looking up from some netting he was 
 trying to accomplish with chilled fingers, for the fire 
 was very small. 
 
 Esther blushed. 
 
 " Was I singing, dad ? Oh, something came over 
 me that the shortest day was passed and the spring 
 would soon be here, and I shall look for the little 
 lilac-buds, and the bees will be creeping out, and all 
 the land looking lovely again. I'm tired of winter — 
 tired, tired of winter ! " And she stretched her long 
 arms; then moving quickly to Michael's side, she 
 turned his face up by the chin and kissed him on his 
 eyes and nose. 
 
 " Do you love me, daddie ? " she said in her soft 
 coaxing tones. 
 
 "You know I do, lass," and Michael's deep eyes 
 shone as they never shone for any one else. 
 
 Esther hugged him in return, then laughed again 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 167 
 
 and ran off into the wash-house, where she sang 
 softly to herself with dreamy eyes hidden in the 
 shadow of long lashes. And Michael listened, under- 
 standing by his quick power of sympathy that some- 
 thing had dawned in Esther's heart. 
 
 Stephen did not appear at the Carries' cottage that 
 night, but Esther was happy, she did not ask herself 
 why. The next day passed without a visit from the 
 pilot. 
 
 On the afternoon of the third day the girl 
 announced her intention of going to see Mrs. Fearey. 
 Michael looked at her quickly; there was question in 
 his mind and in his eyes, and a little anxiety. But 
 Esther took no notice of it ; her own eyes wore a look 
 of listening, and her sweet mouth trembled with a 
 nervous tension. Later on she carried her plan into 
 action and was gone about an hour. Michael was 
 smoking at the door, and watched her come up the 
 path on her return. 
 
 Her head was bent ; when she came up to him she 
 lifted her eyes and smiled, but there was a slight effort 
 in the smile, and her face looked thin by reason of 
 the droop of its lines. She passed her arm through 
 her father's and gently rubbed her forehead against 
 his sleeve and shoulders, in a way she had, ever since 
 she was tall enough to reach, and before that when 
 she was a small maiden sitting on his knee, because 
 there was no mother to nurse her. 
 
 Michael stroked the thick dusky hair tenderly. 
 " Tired, my lass ? " he said. 
 
 Esther answered nothing, but drew a little closer to 
 his side, running her slim long fingers restlessly along 
 the edge of the collar and lappets of his working 
 coat. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey was all alone," she said presently, 
 twisting a button. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Michael. " Steve wasn't there, then ? " 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
l68 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Steve was gone to Rockhampton on business." 
 Then after a pause, "He's only going to be here a few 
 days longer ; he's going back very soon this time." 
 
 " Plenty to do, I expect," said Michael ; he did not 
 know quite what to say. 
 
 Esther sighed. There was another pause. 
 
 " Let's go in, dad, it's so dreadfully cold," and she 
 gave a little dreary shiver. 
 
 " There's a storm coming up," said Michael, rather 
 glad to change the subject. " Did you hear the ' bunny ' 
 to-night ? All along the coast the moan is coming up 
 from the sea." 
 
 " It's quite clear," said Esther ; " quite fine, and 
 clear, and hardly any wind." 
 
 "Too clear by half! It's been so all day. There's 
 a spell of bad weather coming soon. Well, we can't 
 expect anything else in January. Shut the door, lass, 
 and come to the fire, your hands are cold as ice." 
 
 Esther lay long without sleep that night. Outside 
 the air was still as though all small sounds were frozen, 
 and the long mufHed boom of the "bunny" sounded 
 monotonously ominous. 
 
 Stephen Weld returned very late, and sat eating his 
 supper in the little kitchen at the two cottages. 
 
 " There's dirty weather coming up from the sea, 
 aunt," he said. 
 
 " Thank God you're on land, then," said Mrs. Fearey 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Stephen lighted his pipe and drew two or three 
 long breaths, then he said soberly, looking at the fire — 
 
 " It's all the same, aunt, if you believe in the love of 
 God. Land or sea, storm or shine. You can't be a 
 bit safer in one than the other ; it's all according to 
 His will." 
 
 The little woman gave an eager gesture of assent. 
 
 " Seems as though it's a poor sort of belief that 
 only depends on God when there's no stormy 
 weather round," went on the pilot. " When I say 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 169 
 
 stormy weather, I don't mean only the winds that 
 blow, but stormy weather in life. We can be fine an' 
 believing when everything goes along swimmingly ; 
 the thing is not to get shaken when everything goes 
 cross seas. Supposing a man has a happy life, fair 
 and easy, good health, he believes in God, and says 
 God is good and just. Then supposing he sets his 
 heart on something, sets his heart desperately on some- 
 thing, and God shows him the thing is not for him, 
 and he's got to live all his days without it ; now will 
 he say God is good and just then ? My idea is that he 
 ought to, if he loses all that makes the world worth 
 having; and if he finds it in his heart to say that it 
 seemed hard the thing should have come into his life 
 at all unless he could have it, it's a man's plain duty 
 to put all that right out of his mind, and trust with 
 all his soul — not half-hearted fashion." 
 
 "If this world was every bit we had to live for, it 
 would be difficult to see the justice of things some- 
 times, lad," said Mrs. Fearey soberly. "But when you 
 come to feel it's but the school-house ! — bless you, 
 there's a world of happiness in trusting. Look at the 
 children; if they got all they wanted they'd be sick 
 enough often. They have to trust us; it's a wonder 
 how they do it, loving little souls, when you see what 
 poor, faulty humans we all are. They're a lesson to 
 us oftentimes. I've had it proved to me again and 
 again in my life, and Mary Richards will tell you the 
 same — that all the comfort and peace in the world 
 comes of trusting, and you can't go wrong. Even in 
 this life we see every day the reasons why ; then 
 what will it be in the other world, when all's bright 
 and clear? Why, we shall look back and laugh, I do 
 believe, to think how silly we were with our fretting, 
 when the loving Lord was doing the best possible, and 
 we fighting and crying against it." 
 
 The little woman furtively wiped a tear. 
 
 " You've seen a lot of trouble, aunt," said the pilot 
 
170 'THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 affectionately. "I ought to be ashamed, fighting 
 against my first trouble, when a little woman like you 
 has such a brave heart." 
 
 " I'm old, lad, I'm old," cried Mrs. Fearey, stretching 
 out her little hard hand, and laying it tenderly on his 
 big brown one. " I learned hardly, I didn't always 
 trust. I fought more than most, for I had a strong 
 will, like you." 
 
 There was a pause. Presently Stephen got up 
 slowly and knocked the ashes out of his pipe against 
 the fender. Then he said, in what his aunt called his 
 " set " voice — 
 
 "I'm not going to see anything of Esther this time, 
 aunt, nor the next. Not till I can see her without 
 feeling as I do. It's not a bit of use looking at what 
 you can't get." 
 
 " She was here this afternoon," said Mrs. Fearey. 
 
 "Here, was she ? " A deep flush spread over the pilot's 
 brown cheek, and then slowly faded, leaving it white 
 under the surface tan. Then he turned his head and 
 looked at the little woman with pain in his honest 
 eyes. " See how I feel, aunt, just to hear she's been in 
 the place. What's the good of it ? She doesn't care 
 for me. And, even if I could make her care by all 
 the love I could show, it wouldn't be fair, seeing all 
 she and Carne would have to lose by it. I made up 
 my mind when I was away that I wouldn't see more 
 of her than could be helped ; I could have come home 
 a bit sooner, but I stayed away to make the visit 
 shorter. I shall go Thursday " 
 
 " What, next Thursday ! " Mrs. Fearey's voice was 
 dismayed. 
 
 " Yes, it will be better ; to-day's Tuesday." 
 
 u I knew you couldn't stay long this time ; I told 
 Esther a few days, but I didn't think of Thursday. 
 But there, lad, I'm a selfish old woman. Do what's 
 best and right, and you'll have the Lord on your side 
 to help you." 
 
STEPHEN KEEPS HIS RESOLUTION 171 
 
 Thus it happened that the next day passed with- 
 out Esther seeing the pilot. In the afternoon she 
 wandered to the cove with some restless, unexpressed 
 hope in her mind. But he was not there. The rocks 
 looked bleak and grey ; a heavy haze was gathering 
 out to sea, and the grey water heaved with a slow, 
 deep swell as of strong movement far away perhaps, 
 or some deep restless throb in the heart of the sea. 
 Little gusts of cutting wind came up suddenly from 
 the greyness, sinking to perfect stillness after a few 
 half-hearted buffets at the sleeping rocks. Esther 
 turned away home, seeing no sign of a living soul. 
 
 On Thursday she went to the village shop for a few 
 necessaries, and returning between the frost-sprinkled 
 hedges she suddenly met Stephen Weld, walking 
 quickly, with his pilot coat over his guernsey, and a 
 bundle in his hand. 
 
 They stopped with one accord. 
 
 u I heard you were back, but I haven't had a glimpse 
 of you this time," said Esther, and there was a sus- 
 picion of reproach behind the shining pleasure in her 
 eyes, as she raised them. 
 
 Stephen's face was impassive. 
 
 " I've not been here long," he said. " Aunt told me 
 your father was getting along finely. I was glad to 
 hear he is on the mend." 
 
 " Perhaps you will come in and see him," said 
 Esther. There was a little tremble in her lips in spite 
 of her effort to show no sign. 
 
 " You're very kind ; I'd be pleased to another time, 
 but I'm just off." 
 
 The colour faded slowly from Esther's face, as she 
 met the resolute glance of the pilot's clear eyes. 
 
 " What, off again to Salterne ; to work ? " 
 
 " There's plenty doing," said Weld. The trouble in 
 the girl's expressive face, shook his resolution and 
 pierced his heart. The effort of restraint made his 
 tone abrupt. 
 
172 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Esther's pride resented what she thought was a snub. 
 
 "Well, good-bye, then, I won't keep you. Come 
 and see me when you are back," and she smiled, with 
 a little nod, and passing him, walked on quietly home- 
 wards, outwardly unmoved, though sight and hearing 
 seemed for the time suspended. 
 
 Stephen Weld walked away rapidly, his eyes fixed 
 on the road ahead, and his mouth grimly set. 
 
 " I believe, I believe she might have loved me," he 
 thought. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ' I SAW HIM DROWN ' 
 
 HE "bunny" had not given its customary 
 warning for nothing. The wind rose 
 slowly but steadily through the following 
 night ; blowing from the east, bitterly 
 cold, though the village was sheltered 
 to a great degree by the high land towards the Durl 
 Head. 
 
 On Friday Mr. Newman, chief boatman, came in 
 to dinner with a disturbed face, and said as he rubbed 
 some life into his chilled hands at the fire. 
 
 " We've just seen old No. XIX. going out, I suppose 
 she left Salterne late last night." 
 
 " Well, what then, father ? " said Mrs. Newman, 
 looking up in surprise from the steaming stew she 
 was pouring into a hot dish. " It was her turn out, 
 wasn't it ? Somebody said Steve Weld went yester- 
 day morning, and old Dave was off Tuesday or 
 Wednesday." 
 
 " That's right enough," said the coastguard. " But 
 I wish they'd have stayed home a bit longer ; I don't 
 like the look of things, there's something bad coming." 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN J 173 
 
 " It's cold enough," answered Mrs. Newman com- 
 fortably, she was not an alarmist. " It's just bitter, 
 I wonder you can stand there up top, father, the wind 
 enough to cut you in two. I should think anybody 
 would stay home if they could." 
 
 " The worse the weather is, the more the pilots 
 are wanted," went on Newman, pursuing his own 
 thoughts with an anxious brow, and disregarding 
 the steaming plate of Irish stew before him. " I 
 don't half like it. No. XIX. is not one to pin your 
 faith to for soundness ; I suppose the fair wind 
 tempted them. I've been watching them this last 
 hour, she's making a good run of it." 
 
 "But they won't die of cold, father, whatever do 
 you worry so for ? They're accustomed to all sorts ; 
 besides, likely enough they'll pick up ships coming 
 in for shelter in no time, and be taken off." 
 
 Mrs. Newman was annoyed because her husband 
 not only did not praise her stew, his favourite dinner, 
 but did not even seem to be aware what he was 
 eating. Presently he pushed away his plate. 
 
 " The wind's backing steadily," he said, " it's been 
 chopping about for days. I hoped when we got it 
 from the east yesterday that the spell was passing 
 over, but it's backing south every hour." 
 
 "There was a little snow this morning," said his 
 wife. " Just needle-points that seemed to prick you. 
 I hate this weather myself." 
 
 The chief coastguard went to the door, picking 
 up his glass as he passed the window seat. 
 
 " Arn't you going to have any pudding, father, 
 I've a beautiful dumpling here ? " 
 
 Newman shook his head. "Supper, Jenny; I can't 
 wait now," and he disappeared with a smile back at 
 his wife's troubled face. 
 
 "Supper," echoed Mrs. Newman scornfully. "That's 
 just like a man, not to know that a suet dumpling's 
 never the same warmed up. But there, it's father 
 
174 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 all over, and I mustn't complain, I shouldn't love him 
 so much if he put his dinner before poor fellows' lives." 
 
 Mr. Newman knew what he was saying when he 
 prophesied danger. Before the short afternoon 
 darkened into night, the wind was twice as strong 
 as it had been in the morning; and evening descended 
 in a pitch darkness made more dense by the sleet, 
 half snow, half rain, that was driven up by the icy gale. 
 
 As night drew on the village did not sleep. Lights 
 burned hour after hour in the cottage windows, and 
 most of the men, muffled to the eyes, wandered from 
 the shelter of the valley up to the exposed coast- 
 guard station, with an uncertain anxious sense of 
 sleepless expectation. Durlmouth was in for one of 
 the periodical gales that raged once or twice each 
 winter, with a force that none can realize who have 
 not stood and watched. 
 
 Every hour the force of the wind grew, and when 
 the sulky timid dawn crept out of the east to cast 
 its cold grey light on the wild scene, the whole coast- 
 line for miles was one seething cauldron of maddened 
 water. The heads to right and left loomed dimly. 
 Grand, as they had stood through countless storms ; 
 buffeted, battered, shrieked at, and torn by the 
 elements, unconscious types of a strong soul bearing 
 the bitter blows of life's bad weather. 
 
 The coastguard searched the wild waste for signs 
 of a sail. Far away on the horizon a big steamer 
 travelled towards the home shelter, and huge as she 
 was showed what was the force of the gale by her 
 rolls and pitches. 
 
 Newman, the chief boatman, was the centre of an 
 eager group ; who, holding to the flagstaff, and 
 keeping their feet as they best could, waited for news 
 from the sea. These men were no mere fair-weather 
 sailors, nor were they moved by curiosity only. Many 
 a time had the coastguard-boat, a fine craft built with 
 life-saving compartments, gone out to the help of some 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN* 175 
 
 coasting-vessel driving in on this dangerous shore, 
 at the risk of their own lives. Not only the coast- 
 guard themselves, but the ketch owners and working- 
 men. Haynes, Mew, Kentfield and others, fathers 
 of families who could be unjust and ungenerous to a 
 rival, would risk their lives for strangers, for no man 
 ever knew, when he earned his living by " going 
 down to the sea," when his case might be the same, 
 and when he might have to cry to God for the help 
 of a friend. 
 
 Hourly the force of the storm grew, till it beat 
 on the south coast with one of those gales that comes 
 but once or twice in the course of the year, as a rule 
 in January or March. Towards two o'clock in the 
 afternoon the tide, which had been running up all 
 the morning, turned, increasing the fury of the waves, 
 and force of the wind many degrees. The tide at its 
 height created a perfect maelstrom of water at the 
 foot of the cliffs, where the little band of watchers 
 stood. Every wave struck with a sound like heavy 
 gun firing, and with each pounding blow a shower 
 of spray leaped up, again and again falling on the 
 bare cliff-top. There were tales told in the village 
 that gales had been known when the waves had 
 dashed over the cliff, sending showers of water into 
 the valley ; but the chief boatman had never seen 
 that with his own eyes, though he said he could well 
 believe it possible. Many were there who could 
 remember the storm when the then chief boatman 
 and all his crew were drowned in sight of the cove, 
 on their way out to help a foundering coaster running 
 on the rocks. The boat had capsized and seven men 
 were battered and beaten to death almost under the 
 eyes of wives and mothers. It was after that that 
 the new boat was presented to the cove, built with 
 lifeboat advantages, and she had been out once or 
 twice, always successfully hitherto. 
 
 It was after two o'clock when Mr. Newman lowered 
 
176 'THE BROWN BIRD 5 
 
 his glass and looked round at the waiting group with 
 anxious eyes. 
 
 " Some of you see that the boat's ready to go out," 
 he said, raising his voice to be heard above the shrieks 
 of the wind and the boom and crash below. 
 
 " Anything running for the cove?" somebody 
 asked, all the voices seemed blown away, but men 
 pressed round the flagstaff and stared out into the 
 wild waste. 
 
 The chief boatman nodded, his face was drawn 
 and grey with the cold, and his deep-set eyes 
 bloodshot. Some one else took the glass while he beat 
 his numbed arms on his chest, and stamped up and 
 down. The glass was handed on to another, and so 
 on round the waiting band. 
 
 " It's so difficult to make her out," said Haynes, 
 " she's half buried, but she's trying to make for the 
 cove, whoever she is." 
 
 " If she don't make the cove she's about done for," 
 said a young coastguard but recently transplanted from 
 a calmer coast. " Nothing could weather Durl Head." 
 
 Mew disagreed, saying he'd seen worse than this 
 even in his time. But no one took the hopeful view, 
 and every one pressed round him who held the glass. 
 
 So passed twenty minutes or more ; when the party 
 on the cliff was gradually augmented by people from 
 the village ; more men, women and children too ; 
 who climbed the stiff ascent, and holding on to any 
 support essayed to face and pierce the smother of 
 howling wind and driving sleet that met them at the 
 top. The news had gone round that Mr. Newman 
 had ordered the boat to be in readiness. The women 
 left their cottages and met in the road, holding shawls 
 tightly over their heads, and all the men that were 
 not on the cliff-top were seeing to the safety of boats 
 in the creeks, where the water, violently agitated by 
 the commotion outside, was heaving and tossing 
 uneasily, and threatening damage on all sides. 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN' 177 
 
 Esther stood at the gate with a shawl over her 
 head, listening and looking with a beating heart and a 
 sense of nervous expectation. As she so stood Mrs. 
 Fearey came down the road, bending to the wind 
 even there, down in the shelter of the valley, between 
 the winter hedges. 
 
 " Oh, my dearie," said the little woman, as she came 
 up to Esther. " There you are. I couldn't rest, so I 
 came along. Mary can't leave Susan, and Trixie is 
 taking care of them. But there, I can't stay home, 
 it's like as though all the dear souls I've loved were 
 calling me. So many, dear lass, the sea has taken." 
 
 " Have you been to sleep last night, Mrs. Fearey ? " 
 asked Esther, opening the gate with one hand and 
 fastening it to prevent slamming, while she clutched 
 her shawl with the other. 
 
 " Sleep," and the pilot's widow made an expressive 
 gesture. " It's like the storm my father went down 
 in. He lost his life taking out the old boat to save 
 drowning men ; that was before we had the new one." 
 
 " I heard them say, somebody called out that the 
 boat was getting ready now," said Esther in breathless 
 tones. " I went a little way down the road before ; 
 one of the women was crying at her gate, I heard her 
 say her husband would go if the boat went out." 
 
 "There'll be more women than one crying to- 
 morrow," said Mrs. Fearey, her thin lips were set, but 
 the tears stood in her bright eyes. " Will you come 
 to the station, dearie ; see them on the top, they're 
 looking at something. The dear Lord help us all." 
 
 The two women climbed the steep. Esther's 
 strength hardly outstepping the wiry endurance of 
 the other. They reached the top, and bending to 
 keep a footing joined in the small crowd round the 
 flagstaff. 
 
 No one noticed them, all eyes were fixed on the 
 cauldron beyond, to which Mrs. Fearey and the girl 
 also turned their eyes. 
 
 M 
 
178 'THE BROWN BIRD ' 
 
 The short winter afternoon was already beginning 
 to darken. No faintest ray of sun penetrated the 
 thick driving clouds overhead ; which seemed to join 
 and melt with the equally grey smother of sea, from 
 which it was only divided on the horizon line by the 
 teeth of breakers, and the dark swells of waves as they 
 raced in from the open sea in endless succession. 
 
 With eyes long used to search the sea, and with the 
 hereditary far sight of dwellers on the coast, Mrs. 
 Fearey made out an object in the waste beyond, 
 appearing and disappearing, upon which all eyes were 
 now fixed. 
 
 The chief boatman kept the glass, the intensity of 
 his watch but increasing the excitement of those who 
 could see, but not distinguish, the struggling craft. 
 Several questions were put, but not answered, every 
 one waited from minute to minute with a certain dread 
 of what should come. Suddenly a young man with 
 keener sight than most, and perhaps less discretion, 
 called out eagerly — 
 
 " There's something on the sail, a number." 
 
 A sort of groan shook the waiting crowd. The 
 chief boatman lowered his glass, and looked round, 
 his face was set and grim. 
 
 "It's No. XIX.," he said. "Come, you fellows, 
 who'll go with the boat." 
 
 There was a rush and sway of eager men and talk- 
 ing ; in the excitement Esther found herself holding 
 the glass, why, she could not remember afterwards, 
 except that a wild desire to see took her, and she 
 struggled to the front, not noticing how people fell 
 away on seeing her face. 
 
 Her shawl was gone, torn away by the wrench ol 
 the mad wind, and she stood indifferent, reckless, 
 feeling as though these dreadful things were happen- 
 ing to some one else a long time ago. The gale beat 
 and tore at her as she stood adjusting the heavy glass; 
 her long hair loosened from its fastenings flew out i n 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN' 1 79 
 
 dusky strands, lashing round her head and arms, but 
 she took no notice ; she thought only of one thing, to 
 see. Some one helped her hold the glass, which she 
 could not raise against the wind. Afterwards she 
 knew it was young Dave, who had volunteered for 
 the boat and been refused. 
 
 " Rest it on my shoulder, Esther," he said, with blue 
 lips, and Esther did so, but she never knew that he 
 spoke. 
 
 She looked through the glass, and saw a pilot-boat 
 with her topmast gone, fighting for life out in the 
 open bay. She could see the number on the main- 
 sail, XIX.; the jib was flying in rags, and the bow- 
 sprit broken off short, the topmast-gear dragged and 
 flapped against the cross-trees ; two figures were in 
 the well holding the tiller. 
 
 The boat seemed to be half under water, every 
 wave threatened to break over her as she laboured 
 and struggled with heavy half-choked efforts. Rigid 
 the girl stood, seeing the horrible drama brought so 
 close and knowing it so far out of reach. She gave a 
 hoarse cry as a huge following wave crashed on the 
 stern ; the boat seemed to stop, sinking in a smother 
 of foam. But a boat will battle for life like a human 
 creature, and again she disentangled herself from the 
 grasp of the enemy, rising feebly, her sprit gone, with 
 the sail and gear encumbering the stern and dragging 
 in the water. Esther saw a tall figure spring on to the 
 stern and hack at the wreckage with something ; she 
 thought the man had on a life-belt. The other figure 
 seemed to drop the tiller and put both hands to his 
 mouth as though to shout. 
 
 Another wave towering behind and above the 
 stricken boat fell on the stern, poured into the well 
 and swept the deck to a level with the raging surface 
 of the wild sea. Esther saw but a mast and a tall 
 powerful figure still hacking, keeping feet by a miracle. 
 Once more the deck rose to the surface, and Esther 
 
l8o 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 seemed to think that in that moment dark figures 
 were appearing in the well from the cuddy within, 
 but it was all over so quickly that she never knew 
 quite how the end came. 
 
 Another wave, perhaps the seventh from its tower- 
 ing height, and the fighting creature was beaten to 
 death at last. Tons of water must have poured over 
 the broken hull, probably filling the cuddy, the hatch 
 of which had been opened. The mast wavered, turned 
 over and disappeared. 
 
 For a few seconds Esther continued staring at the 
 raging whirlpool of grey sea and tossing foam ; nothings 
 nothing but bits of wreckage, dark things appearing 
 and disappearing, all that was left of perhaps nine 
 lives. 
 
 For a few seconds she stared, then dropping her 
 hold of the glass, which was caught by some one 
 waiting in frenzy of eagerness, she turned round. Mrs. 
 Fearey saw her face and pressed towards her. 
 
 "What, what!" 
 
 " Dead, dead, all dead." Esther shrieked the words 
 in a voice not her own. " I saw — she went down/' 
 She pressed both hands over her wild eyes, and then 
 spreading them out, beat the palms together in extreme 
 of agony. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey said no word, but her small face seemed 
 to sink together as she stood motionless. 
 
 Some of the women began to cry and sob ; young 
 Dave stood white-faced with trembling lips. The 
 man who had clutched the glass dropped it heavily, 
 and to questioning looks shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing, no. Gone." 
 
 The turmoil of the raging waste continued as though 
 unsatisfied, the wind shrieked round the group of 
 white-faced people, huddled together staring, the 
 heavy waves that had relentlessly dashed life out of 
 brave men but a few moments before, still raced 
 landwards, hurling themselves with a ceaseless boom 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN' l8l 
 
 of horrible power against the changeless face of the 
 blank black cliffs. 
 
 Esther stood for one moment, then she turned away 
 and went quickly down the steep slope towards the 
 village, noting nothing of the wind that tore her long 
 hair, or the sleet that drenched her shawlless shoulders. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey followed, suddenly old. She shook 
 her head when some one offered to help her, and crept 
 down the hill alone also. The rest of the group 
 looked after her with a certain reverence and awe, for 
 had not she lost the last link that tied her to earth, 
 standing now alone, a widow, childless, without kith 
 or kin. Then they scattered and scrambled away 
 down by any path, eager to get first and see what was 
 happening to the volunteers for the boat. 
 
 They found that it had actually put out and was 
 attempting to cross the breakers at the mouth of the 
 cove, in imminent danger of capsize. Again and 
 again the trial had been made to no purpose, the 
 boat had to wait and back. Just as the stragglers 
 from the cliffs reached the rocks on the village side 
 of the horseshoe, the boat made a gallant rush, 
 plunging into the crest of an incoming breaker. For 
 a moment it seemed as though she would get through, 
 but the force of the sea was overpowering, and broad- 
 side on she was swept back into the cove, her crew 
 clinging to the thwarts, and half full of water, driven 
 back along the way she had come. 
 
 The chief boatman was not beaten yet, and no man 
 thought of giving in, but shouts and signs from the 
 shore stayed the intention. At first they would not 
 believe, but when they who were willingly offering 
 their lives understood at last, they pulled back to the 
 boat-house and stepped ashore, white and silent. 
 
 Esther hurried on homewards, her brain in a curious 
 maze. It can hardly be said that she felt, and tears 
 would have been impossible to her. The pilot's widow 
 followed her closely, even at such a moment unselfish 
 
1 82 'THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 in her grief, and full of growing anxiety for the girl 
 whose face she had seen turning from that last scene. 
 
 Coming along the road was Michael, troubled at 
 their absence, and disturbed, even with his life's 
 experience, at the fury of the gale. 
 
 Esther ran on till she met him, and then stopping 
 in the middle of the road, put her long wet hair out 
 of her eyes and looked at him. 
 
 " Steve's dead," she said in a harsh tone. 
 
 Carne made some dazed exclamation ; she went 
 on twisting the hair absently round her fingers. 
 
 " I saw him drown. I saw them all drown." 
 
 " Esther," cried Michael, the colour of his face 
 fading to unnatural pallor. 
 
 She looked at him stupidly, and Mrs. Fearey came 
 up with them. The ketch owner turned to the new- 
 comer. 
 
 " What does she say, ma'am ? It's not true." 
 
 " It's true, Michael Carne." Her voice was very 
 quiet, and she drew the shawl round her with hands 
 that trembled. 
 
 "Then — then, you " The man stopped, words 
 
 failing him to express what broke on his mind. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Fearey, " my Steve." There was 
 a choked pause, and a tear, the difficult tear of old 
 age crept down the wrinkled cheek. 
 
 " God have mercy on us," exclaimed Michael, pass- 
 ing his hand over his eyes. 
 
 " His will be done now, and always," said the little 
 woman bravely, and she wiped the tears. 
 
 There was silence for a minute, but for the rushing 
 of the wind, creak of boughs, and rustle of driven 
 twigs and leaves. Michael looked with a certain awe 
 at the little figure, bent and shrivelled, yet so full of 
 dignity, he did not know what to say. 
 
 " Better get the child indoors." Mrs. Fearey spoke 
 first. " She had the glass, and — and saw. It's struck 
 her to the heart, she's not herself." 
 
'I SAW HIM DROWN' 183 
 
 Esther submitted to be led home. The expression 
 of her face did not change, she looked round the 
 kitchen with a sort of dull strangeness, sat down on 
 the edge of a chair, and began slowly to wring the long 
 rope of hair that she had twisted up with both hands. 
 
 " See how wet," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey looked at the girl anxiously, and set- 
 ting aside her own grief with the generous unselfish- 
 ness peculiar to her, she quietly put on the kettle 
 and moved about getting tea, followed by Michael 
 helping with shaking hands. 
 
 " Don't take notice of her." Mrs. Fearey made a 
 gesture towards the quiet figure on the chair. " We'll 
 get her to bed as soon as possible ; it's the shock." 
 
 " Why should you give up hope, ma'am ? " said 
 Michael suddenly. 
 
 " Dear man," answered the little woman, with a 
 faint smile, "the boat, No. XIX., went down before 
 our eyes, running for the cove." 
 
 "It doesn't follow Steve hadn't been taken off," 
 persisted Michael, the idea growing in his mind. 
 " They went out early yesterday, wasn't it ? They 
 must have met some vessel running in. How do you 
 know Steve hasn't been put aboard some one of them ? " 
 
 A faint flush stole over Mrs. Fearey's white face, 
 her lips quivered. But Michael had raised his voice 
 in the energy of the thought, and before she could 
 speak Esther's voice broke in — 
 
 " I saw Steve on the stern cutting away at the 
 broken mizzen. I saw him plain enough, no one 
 about was so tall and big." She spoke without 
 expression or emotion, and the flush died out of Mrs. 
 Fearey's face leaving it whiter than before. 
 
 Michael turned hastily, but the girl was staring at 
 her hands lying in her lap, and said no more. The 
 tea was a farce, except in the case of Esther, who 
 drank thirstily with a pre-occupied air. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey took no notice, talking to Michael 
 
1 84 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 now and again, little disjointed sentences that told the 
 tale of the tragedy. 
 
 Afterwards they sat round the fire silently, some- 
 times a word passing between Michael and the pilot's 
 widow, while the wind shook the cottage and wailed 
 down the valley with the cry of many despairing souls 
 in their last agony out on wild waste of sea. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Fearey said to Esther — 
 
 " Come to bed, lass, you're tired." 
 
 Esther rose obediently. Michael put his arm round 
 her tenderly and raised her chin to look into her 
 eyes ; she looked back at him with the expression of 
 a sleep-walker. 
 
 " Poor daddie," she said, with a little smile ; " how's 
 your leg ? " 
 
 Michael muttered something and kissed her, there 
 were tears in his eyes as he watched her leave the 
 room. Mrs. Fearey went up with her, and presently 
 coming down again reported that she was in bed and 
 had said nothing. 
 
 "And now I'll go home, Mr. Carne, if there's no 
 more I can do." 
 
 " God bless you, ma'am," said the master of Brown 
 Bird, with a sudden keen sense of reverence for the 
 little lonely woman who stood before him so broken, 
 and yet so faithful to her faith ; " and He will bless 
 you for that matter. You're a good woman." 
 
 " It's cruelly hard to say, ' His will be done,' some- 
 times, Michael Carne." Mrs. Fearey paused, con- 
 trolling her voice. " We couldn't if it wasn't for Him. 
 Good-night to you." 
 
 Michael took her to the gate, he would have gone 
 home with her, but she waved him back, and he saw 
 the little figure disappear in the dark alone. After 
 sitting awhile quietly, his mind full of strange thoughts, 
 Carne went softly up-stairs. Before he entered his 
 own room he peeped round Esther's door. She was 
 sleeping heavily, and moaning faintly in her sleep. 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 1 85 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 
 
 HOWARDS three o'clock in the morning, 
 twelve hours after the wreck of the pilot's 
 boat, Esther Carne awoke, and sat up in 
 bed. The wind had abated something 
 of its frenzy, though it still blew hard ; 
 but the roar of the waves was insistent and angry, 
 and a cold rain pattered in little showers against the 
 casement. 
 
 Esther sat for a while with her elbows on her knees 
 and chin resting on her hands, then she got up and 
 dressed herself, with very little noise, and crept down- 
 stairs in stockinged feet. She unfastened the door 
 carefully, closed it behind her, and went out into the 
 darkness and rain, turned without hesitation towards 
 the Rockhampton road, and hurried on with fleet 
 steps regardless of her shoeless condition. 
 
 She passed the two cottages, observing vaguely 
 that there was a light burning in Mrs. Fearey's 
 kitchen, and a little further on opened the gate into 
 the fields, and turned on to the cliff, speeding over 
 the rough ground and making straight for the Rocky 
 Cove. 
 
 There was little thought passing through her dazed 
 brain, except a curious conviction that if Stephen 
 were alive he would come there to meet her, and 
 dead, would know she was there. She ran down the 
 steep, broken ground at a pace that would probably 
 have caused an accident had she been in her normal 
 state, but like a sleep-walker she was protected by 
 her own reckless sense of security ; arrived on the 
 sandy beach she looked round. 
 
 The tide, which had been running out with all its 
 volume at the time of the wreck, had continued to 
 ebb for some five hours afterwards, and then, turning, 
 
1 86 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 had flowed for six hours, reaching an unusual height, 
 from the fact that it was the season of spring tide, 
 and that the wind had tended to its reaching a 
 higher line than usual even then. 
 
 The upper beach was strewn with debris of many 
 kinds — wood, and piles of ragged brown seaweed, 
 broken lobster-pots, and all the playthings of the 
 storm. Esther looked about, at first seeing little in 
 the darkness, but gradually growing accustomed to 
 the dim grey reflection from the sea, which shed a 
 sort of light of its own. 
 
 The water was retreating, and as it went it left 
 behind the traces of its passionate madness. More 
 sand had been heaped up round the base of the 
 fallen rocks, and the aspect of the bay even seemed 
 in a manner changed. 
 
 Esther wandered about uncertain ; she was wet 
 and cold, only the remnants of stockings remained on 
 her bruised feet, but she did not notice ; the angry 
 moan of the retiring waves seemed to fascinate her, 
 and she followed them down from rock to rock 
 absorbed in the occupation. 
 
 Something was drifting heavily in the grasp of the 
 water power — a long dark shape. It might be a 
 log of wood, perhaps the piece of a mast. One 
 moment quite covered, the next almost exposed, it 
 turned and dragged heavily in the sand. Esther 
 saw it first without much speculation, but presently 
 she thought of nothing else, and her heart set itself 
 intently on the one idea of keeping this prey from 
 the destroyer. She ran into the water, and stooping, 
 seized it, but the weight was too great and it was 
 dragged from her hands. But after a few minutes 
 the water left it, sweeping down the beach, sucking 
 sand and pebbles with a long rasping sound, and the 
 heavy plaything lay still, but for the slight slide of 
 moving sand beneath it. 
 
 Esther exerted all her strength to move it, or turn 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 1 87 
 
 it over ; to no purpose, she was weak, and the 
 heavy body was embedded face downwards in sand, 
 shingle, and seaweed. 
 
 It was dressed in long oilskins and heavy boots to 
 the thighs, a sou'-wester was tied down over the head, 
 and a life-belt encircled the waist. After one or two 
 more strenuous efforts she desisted, and, crouching 
 down on the heaped-up shingle, waited till somebody 
 should come. 
 
 Michael Carne awoke soon after she had left the 
 house, with a sense of anxiety and worry in his mind. 
 He got up and looked out of the little window; the 
 wind had fallen and rain was beating on the pane. 
 It occurred to him to go and look at Esther, for 
 returning consciousness brought back to his mind a 
 keen pang of anxiety about her condition. Softly he 
 opened her door and looked in ; Esther was not 
 there ; the bed was tumbled, and the room empty. 
 Her father looked round the little place, taking 
 in with a quick eye that her clothes were gone, 
 but not her shoes or hat, which lay on a chair. 
 Hurriedly putting on some clothing, with more 
 expedition than he had used since his accident, he 
 went down-stairs ; looked first in the wash-house and 
 kitchen, then round the garden, and finally limped 
 away in the direction of the two cottages as fast as 
 his stiff ankle would allow. 
 
 " She might have gone to Mrs. Fearey," he muttered 
 to himself, and in his pre-occupation almost ran 
 against some one coming the other way. 
 
 " Hallo," said the man, a coastguard, dressed for 
 bad weather, coming quickly from the Rockhampton 
 side. 
 
 Carne stopped. "You haven't seen any one about, 
 have you ? " asked Carne anxiously. 
 
 The man shook his head. "Not a night to be out," 
 he said. " I met my mate the other side of Rocky 
 Cove, usual time; came back along the edge up there; 
 
1 88 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 it was about as much as you could do to stand, but 
 the worst's over now. Who are you looking for, Mr. 
 Carne?" 
 
 " My daughter," answered the Cornishman, with a 
 little hesitation ; he hated making his private affairs 
 public. 
 
 The sailor gave a little exclamation of dismay 
 and surprise. 
 
 "And if it's not rude to ask, how does it come she 
 should be out this time ? " 
 
 " Were you on the cliff, time that No. XIX. went 
 down?" said Michael, answering with another 
 question. 
 
 " I was in the boat trying to get off to them," said 
 the coastguard. 
 
 " Ah, then, you didn't see it happen. She did." 
 
 " What ! your daughter saw the boat go down ! " 
 
 " I understand she got hold of the glass when the 
 volunteers went for the boat, and it happened that she 
 saw it all. She keeps saying she saw them drown ; 
 her mind's all upset, her head's queer in some way ; 
 she got out of bed and went out ; how long ago I 
 don't know. I'm looking for her." The account 
 came in disjointed fashion, Carne's anxiety battling 
 with his natural reserve. 
 
 The coastguard considered. 
 
 " You've no notion where she'd go ? " 
 
 Michael shook his head impatiently. 
 
 " She wouldn't know herself, her mind's all upset." 
 
 There was a pause ; then the sailor said — 
 
 " When I went through the gate from the road up 
 there " — nodding his head towards two cottages — "on 
 to the cliff, it was shut, firm shut, and I shut it behind 
 me. When I come back that way a few minutes 
 since it was open, and the wind had swung it back. 
 Now I don't see who could have gone through in the 
 night, unless " 
 
 " It must have been her," interrupted Michael, with 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 1 89 
 
 impulsive eagerness. " She's gone that way, gone on 
 to the cliff. Thank you, I'm much obliged; I'd better 
 be off after her." 
 
 He was hurrying away when the sailor detained 
 him by a gesture. 
 
 " Shan't you want any one to come with you ? " 
 
 " I don't see why I should, I can find her alone." 
 There was a little rebuff in his manner, but the 
 generous-hearted sailor was not to be eas'ly put off. 
 
 " Don't know so much about that," ne said cheer- 
 fully, "she might be ill. My turn's up, I must just 
 go along and report, and then I'll come back this way 
 and follow you. You go on to Rocky Cove, like 
 enough you'll find her thereabouts," and he went off at 
 a trot before Michael had time to refuse, or even reply. 
 
 He went on, to a certain extent relieved by the 
 friendly sympathy, and reached two cottages, to find 
 a little light burning behind the kitchen blind as 
 Esther had noticed. 
 
 He tapped at the door, and it was almost immedi- 
 ately opened by Mrs. Fearey with Trixie at her heels. 
 The bright eyes met Michael's with wild question for 
 a moment. " News, was it possible ? " It cut his heart 
 to have nothing to say, and he saw the shadow fall 
 with a sympathy too keen to express. 
 
 "Ma'am," he said, with something of a woman's 
 quick intuition as to what would best heal the grief 
 he saw. " Ma'am, I want your kind help." 
 
 " If there's anything I can do, Michael Carne ; " and 
 the pilot's widow set her own sorrow in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 " There is, ma'am, if you will. My girl's gone 
 out somewhere, and I want to find her." He put it 
 as quietly as possible, but all Mrs. Fearey's excite- 
 ment was ablaze at once. 
 
 " What ! Esther out ! Poor maid ; it's the brain 
 wandering. And have you any notion which way she 
 may be gone ? " 
 
190 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Michael mentioned his meeting with the coastguard, 
 and Mrs. Fearey listened, nodding vehemently. 
 
 " I've known her go to the cove again and again. 
 There was something in her mind, poor lass. I'm ready, 
 I'm ready, Mr. Carne ; likely enough you will need 
 me to help you with her ; a man's not the same as 
 a woman if he's twenty times a girl's father. But 
 whatever shall I do with Baby, he'll fret so alone, and 
 he's very much upset to-night, too ? " her sharp voice 
 was very tender. 
 
 " Bring him along too," suggested Michael. " If 
 he's not too stiff to walk, he'll be a help, perhaps. See 
 now, sheep-dog nature is to look for lost sheep ; he 
 might lead us, there's no knowing." 
 
 " Come then, Trixie, boy, and help us find Esther," 
 cried Mrs. Fearey, stooping to pat the grey head 
 pressed lovingly against her knee ; and the old dog 
 answered with his short husky bark as his intelligence 
 gathered that something was expected from him. 
 
 It was bitterly cold and windy, the driving rain very 
 penetrating and continuous, increasing steadily in its 
 fall as the wind fell and the tide went down. Mrs. 
 Fearey pinned on her shawl, and tied a large silk 
 handkerchief over her hat, and the three started — a 
 strange trio. The old dog shambling in front, full of 
 excitement, appearing to know exactly what was 
 required of him. Michael's long figure bending to 
 the wind, limping, but forgetful of discomfort. And 
 the little woman talking and encouraging the dog, 
 while she held in her hand a small lantern well 
 protected against draughts. 
 
 They passed through the gate and bent their steps 
 towards the rough stretch of cliff top. There was no 
 doubt that Trixie understood, by some strange instinct, 
 that they were following Esther. He sniffed about 
 with husky barks, trotting to and fro, and led them, if 
 they had known, almost in the girl's footmarks to the 
 edge of Rocky Cove. Then, after worrying up and 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 191 
 
 down for a minute or two, he began to descend the 
 broken slope. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey followed without hesitation, talking to 
 and encouraging the dog with an incessant little 
 running fire of comment and suggestion. Michael 
 came last, his heart beating with a very torture of 
 anxiety. They heard Trixie's scuffling slide down the 
 loose shingle at the bottom ; then a quick series of 
 joyous barks, insistent, triumphant ; then a moment's 
 silence, followed by a long, trembling howl. 
 
 " Oh, merciful Lord ! " whispered the little woman 
 to herself, and Michael's breath was strangled in his 
 choking throat. 
 
 They were over the tumbling shingle, pattering 
 across the wet sand, slipping on wet seaweed, tripping 
 over strange wreckage. Something was before them, 
 and out of the shadow came another long wail from 
 the old dog. 
 
 " Good boy, good Trixie," cried Mrs. Fearey, her 
 voice shaking with dread ; and the dog ran back to her 
 with a bark of truimph. 
 
 Something tall rose quietly out of the shadow 
 before them. Esther ! Mrs. Fearey's lantern fell on 
 her soaking dress, ghastly face, dull eyes, and long 
 dark hair, that clung to her shoulders like strands of 
 brown seaweed. 
 
 " Is that you, daddie ? " she said rather faintly, as 
 though from exhaustion. " I was waiting for you to 
 come and help me move him." 
 
 " Him" Michael could hardly speak the word. 
 
 " Yes — Steve," said the girl, without emotion. " He's 
 come in from the sea ; I thought he would, that's why 
 I came here." 
 
 Carne sprang forward as he heard Mrs. Fearey's 
 stifled cry, and knelt down by the long heavy body 
 that the sand was sheltering so securely. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey set down the lantern, and with nervous 
 strength helped the Cornishman in his effort. Esther 
 
192 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 stood by motionless, looking down at them, her arms 
 hanging listlessly at her side. 
 
 The quiet figure was moved, lifted over, and gently 
 rested against the heap of drifted sand. The oilskin 
 hat slipped back ; they saw a grey beard, a still, 
 dignified face, lined by five-and-sixty years of facing 
 death, asleep with the grand peace of those who have 
 believed and been faithful. 
 
 Michael rose slowly, with his hat in his hand. 
 
 "Old Dave Occomore," he said in an awestruck 
 voice. " God rest him ! " 
 
 And Mrs. Fearey, looking down at her old friend's 
 last sleep, said in her brave, faithful voice, as one 
 who knew, " For, if we believe Jesus died and rose 
 again, even so, them also that are fallen asleep in 
 Jesus will God bring with Him." 
 
 The difficult tears ran slowly over her wrinkled 
 cheeks, but she did not weep as " one without hope." 
 Esther stood still staring at the quiet figure. 
 
 Michael went to her and drew her into his arms, 
 pressing her white face against his breast, and 
 stroking her head with gentle caresses. She was 
 trembling from head to foot. 
 
 " My maid, my own maid ; don't you grieve so, it's 
 not Steve." 
 
 Esther sank in his arms a dead weight, she had 
 fainted without a murmur. 
 
 Little lights began to twinkle on the top of the rough 
 ground, and Michael, holding Esther in his arms, 
 answered back a long call to the distant shouts. His 
 voice was carried shorewards by the wind, and in a few 
 moments they were joined by a party of eight or ten 
 men with lanterns and sticks. 
 
 There was a hurried explanation ; and in a few 
 more minutes the same men were struggling up the 
 broken slope with stretchers improvised out of sticks 
 and oilskin coats on which lay the senseless form of 
 Esther Carne, and the quiet body of the brave old 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 193 
 
 pilot. The former was carried into her father's 
 cottage as the winter dawn began to creep into the 
 valley, while the slow tramp of the sailors bearing 
 their mate's body, faded into silence down the village 
 road. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey and Michael laid the girl on the sofa 
 and chafed her hands with spirit, while the old dog 
 looked on eagerly, conscious of keen responsibilty, and 
 happy in praise from his mistress. 
 
 After a time Esther opened her eyes and looked 
 round, there was more sense and speculation in her 
 glance ; she looked quietly at Mrs. Fearey, then 
 turned her eyes on her father who was bending over 
 her with deep lines of anxiety marking his haggard, 
 unshaven face. 
 
 After a minute's quiet contemplation, she said 
 weakly — 
 
 " He can never know now — never — never." 
 
 " Who can't know, my maid ? " said Carne, regardless 
 of a little gesture of warning from Mrs. Fearey ; he 
 was thinking more of his daughter than the meaning 
 of her words. 
 
 " Steve, dad." The name came like a sigh of pain 
 from her lips ; then raising herself on her elbow, and 
 looking into her father's eyes, she went on, " I'd 
 begun to think, somehow, that he cared about me, 
 but I wouldn't think because — because of the miller — 
 and the house, and all that. But, dad, I came to 
 want him to love me — and last time when he came 
 home he never came here, and then I thought he'd made 
 up his mind to get over it, if he ever had cared ; 
 while there was time I'd never thought ; when I began 
 to think he didn't want me. Dad — I never felt till it 
 was too late ! and now — he's dead — dead, I can 
 never tell him — he can never know how I loved 
 him ! " 
 
 Her voice rose to almost a cry, she spoke quicker 
 and more feverishly. 
 
 N 
 
194 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Michael knelt on one knee by the side of the sofa 
 and took her hands, which were moving with excited 
 gestures. 
 
 " Don't, my lass, don't you take on so ; you'll make 
 yourself very ill." 
 
 "If I don't tell you I shall die," said the girl, 
 pressing his hands against her hot forehead. " Daddie, 
 I never knew — I never thought what it was to love 
 anybody as though you couldn't live without them. 
 It came all in a minute — not the love — but knowing 
 about it ; the day I knew he was back. Last time. 
 And a girl can't show a man — but a very little." 
 Her lips began to tremble and her voice was 
 strangling in her throat as she went on with effort. 
 "And then — he never came — or spoke to me — and 
 I saw he didn't want me ; perhaps he thought I had 
 no heart because of — of the miller." 
 
 Michael tried to stop her with " hushes " and gentle 
 words, but she shook her head wildly. 
 
 " I know I wasn't half good enough for Steve — he 
 
 was different — from everybody — the truest Oh, 
 
 dad, hold me, or I shall go mad ! I can't bear it ! " 
 
 Michael held her while the tears ran down his 
 cheeks ; never before had he seen Esther shaken so 
 to the soul, and her agony of grief cut him as no 
 grief of his own could have done. In face of this 
 reality of suffering his own morbid tendency to 
 magnify worries dropped from him, and all the 
 tenderness and sympathy in his really fine nature 
 came into play. 
 
 Esther stroked his face with one of her pretty 
 loving gestures. 
 
 " I've been a selfish, heartless brute to you, my girl. 
 I might have prevented it all, if I hadn't been so 
 set on my own way." 
 
 She shook her head with a faint smile, and leaning 
 against him quietly looked at Mrs. Fearey, who had 
 been standing at the end of the sofa, waiting. 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 1 95 
 
 " Let me help you up to bed, my dear," said the 
 little woman gently. " Come along, Mr. Carne ; there'll 
 be two of you ill directly. She's got to stay abed 
 this next day or two, and the sooner she goes to sleep 
 the better." 
 
 Purposely the brave little woman made her voice 
 brisk and matter-of-fact ; realizing that both father 
 and daughter were of such excitable temperament as 
 to need the tonic of commonplace. Michael rose 
 obediently, and Esther struggled to her feet with his 
 help. Trixie jumped round stiffly at this evidence of 
 recuperation ; he had been looking on at the scene 
 with troubled eye ; and Esther bent to pat him with 
 a little laugh that was almost a sob, and did not 
 deceive Trixie as a sign of gaiety. 
 
 When the girl was once more safely in bed she lay 
 still, staring with wide, hopeless eyes at the watery 
 dawn that stole in through the little casement. 
 
 " I only hope you won't get a rheumatic fever," 
 said Mrs. Fearey, troubled over the heap of wet 
 clothing. 
 
 " Was I wet ? " said Esther simply. 
 
 " Was I wet !" there was much assumed scorn and 
 indignation in the echo. " Well, go to sleep." 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was leaving the room, when the girl's 
 voice arrested her. 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey, should you mind if Baby stayed 
 here a bit with me — would he ? " 
 
 " He may if he will," said the little woman, greeting 
 this request with pleasure as a sign of return to balance 
 of mind. " Here, Trixie, boy, will you stay and take 
 care of Esther a bit ? " 
 
 The sheep-dog looked with questioning eye from 
 one to the other. 
 
 " He may stay on the foot of the bed," said Esther, 
 " he won't hurt the counterpane." 
 
 Mr. Fearey exclaimed in horror — 
 
 " Why, he'd think the world was come to an end if 
 
I96 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 he was let sit on a bed, would Trixie. He was never 
 brought up in careless ways. No, he likes a chair 
 like he sees his mother sit. Here's a cushion he can't 
 harm," and Mrs. Fearey tossed up Esther's little 
 flock cushion covered with washing cretonne, and 
 arranged it in the chair by her bedside. " He's 
 pretty stiff," she said, with some pride, " but it's 
 wonderful how he manages to get on a chair — habit, 
 that's what it is." 
 
 Trixie realized that it was required of him to re- 
 main, and he clambered on to the cushion with polite 
 tail wags, but a yearning eye fixed on his mistress. 
 
 "Just for a bit, lad," whispered the old woman, as 
 to a friend that understood. " Don't you let self get 
 the better of you ; we've all got to put it behind 
 sometimes. Now you take care of Esther till she 
 goes to sleep." 
 
 The faithful grey head turned to follow her as she 
 left the room, then with a little distressful whine the 
 old dog laid his nose on his paws, and settled into an 
 attitude of patience, the wakeful eye fixed on Esther. 
 
 The girl stretched out a weak hand and laid it on 
 his shaggy back ; soon afterwards her eyelids drooped 
 and she slept heavily, while Trixie listened anxiously 
 with raised ear, and eye on the door. 
 
 The storm had worn itself out. Exactly twenty- 
 four hours after the wreck of No. XIX. pilot-boat, 
 the sun struggled through the breaking clouds, and 
 the sullen water, as if tired of its own violence, began 
 the ebb tide with a doleful retreat of creeping waves, 
 back over the whispering shingle. 
 
 The rain was over and gone, and blue sky, the 
 dull, far-away blue of January was everywhere showing 
 itself through the clouds that drifted away northwards 
 in torn fragments. 
 
 All Durlmouth village was collected on the east 
 side of the cave, beyond the eastern horn of the 
 entrance, where the sweep of sand and shingle 
 
THE SEA GIVES UP HER DEAD 197 
 
 curving round and out to the Durl Head had long 
 earned the name of Deadman's Bay, because, owing 
 probably to the sweep of the strong tides between the 
 two great heads, so many wrecked vessels and bodies 
 of those lost at sea came ashore there. 
 
 As the second tide after the wreck began to retreat, 
 it was reported from the coastguard station that 
 that for which they had waited was come ; and men 
 and women alike crowded awestruck over the eastern 
 down by the steep cliff paths to the flat shore to wait. 
 The receding waves had left their prey on the sands. 
 The long black hull lay helplessly on its side ; mast 
 gone, bowsprit gone, rudder gone. The little 
 waves played round the shining keel, as though 
 loth to leave No. XIX. after the cruel game they had 
 played with her and hers. Just before four o'clock 
 the sun sank beyond Black Rock Bill to the westward, 
 and the clearing sky flamed into a wonder of rosy 
 light, the scudding clouds became wreaths of saffron- 
 coloured smoke, and long fingers of light trailed 
 across the stretch of water and touched the wet sand, 
 turning the little ponds left by the tide into the like- 
 ness of pools of blood, and glistening with yellow shine 
 of glory on the wet hull of the pilot-boat. 
 
 The coastguard boarded the wreck, while the little 
 crowd stood at a distance awestruck. In less than a 
 minute the chief boatman stepped ashore again, and 
 the word was passed for stretchers. The men waited 
 round the hull with hats off, and every face bore the 
 imprint of what they had seen and what they felt. 
 The women cried quietly, and the children played 
 about, finding little crabs left behind by the water, and 
 rejoicing much over strange shells thrown up from the 
 sea-world. 
 
 One by one the bodies were lifted reverently out, 
 drowned in the cuddy ; some sheltering, some probably 
 asleep after the hard night. Five were there, fathers 
 of families, Salterne^men, all well known in Durlmouth. 
 
I98 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 One of the cuddy doors was still securely fastened, 
 and the other, which might have been open at the 
 time of the wreck, had shut to afterwards, thus 
 apparently keeping the bodies imprisoned. 
 
 The slow procession wound across the flat sands 
 again and again (for they had but two stretchers). 
 The children stopped in their play to stare, and the 
 women followed wiping their eyes with their shawls 
 and aprons. 
 
 Up the rough path to the gate of the cove, and 
 there the bodies were laid carefully in the coastguard 
 boat, and rowed across the basin to the quay, to save 
 carrying them over the steep pitch over the down. 
 
 The sun sank lower and lower behind the Black 
 Rock, which stood in relief against the glow like a 
 purple spur running out into the grey sea. The pink 
 glow faded to saffron, and the saffron to a cold mauve. 
 The sea retreated whispering, and long shadows fell 
 over the lonely sands. 
 
 About the time that the last light left the sky 
 Esther awoke and remembered everything. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ESTHER AWAKES 
 
 IX out of the seven pilots were accounted 
 for. There remained only Stephen Weld 
 and the two men who were employed to 
 take the boat back when all the pilots 
 were put off. 
 Night and day the whole line of coastguard 
 watched the shore ; and on the second day a body 
 was washed up beyond Rockhampton almost unrecog- 
 nizable, but no more news came from the sea, and as 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 1 99 
 
 the days went by the searchers lost hope of any 
 further trace. 
 
 The faint hope that may have lingered in Mrs. 
 Fearey's heart, that Stephen had been taken off first, 
 died away as the days passed without news ; because, 
 had he been alive he would most surely have written 
 or sent a message. 
 
 Esther kept her bed almost a week, lying still with 
 her face towards the window, and slow tears creeping 
 down her white cheeks. She spoke little, and ate 
 hardly anything ; she did not seem to notice her 
 father's worn face, or Mrs. Fearey's gentle efforts to 
 interest her ; she took no notice of the housekeeping 
 either, and Carne struggled alone with its details, too 
 anxious about her to press these matters on her 
 notice. 
 
 At the end of a week she came down, looking taller 
 and very thin. She was indefinably altered ; the 
 girlhood had gone from her face, and suffering woman- 
 hood looked from her sad eyes. Even the shape of 
 her face had changed, the temples had hollowed, and 
 the smooth curve of her cheeks had gone. A slight 
 stoop of the neck increased the appearance of delicacy ; 
 and Carne watched her movements, so slow and 
 spiritless, with keen pain, as he remembered the young 
 mother who had " gone off in a decline " with much the 
 same look as her child had now. 
 
 In the course of the next few days Mr. Emmett 
 came to the cottage. He had called once or twice to 
 ask after Esther, but she shrank when his name was 
 mentioned, and had never mentioned it herself since 
 the night she was brought home. 
 
 The miller had heard some rumour of her night 
 adventure, but being of a very practical nature he had 
 set it aside as the consequence of shock to the nerves. 
 He considered it foolish for a man to trouble about 
 one wreck more or less, but was not displeased that 
 Esther had shown so much sensibility, as women, in 
 
200 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 the miller's opinion, were the better for a little 
 weakness. 
 
 When Esther was down-stairs she could not escape 
 his visit, and Michael watched her anxiously as the 
 well-known rap sounded on the cottage door. He 
 opened it, for she was sitting by the fire, and only 
 turned her head slightly at the sound. 
 
 Mr. Emmett came in, and sat down with an air of 
 possession and authority that set Esther's highly- 
 strung nerves on edge at once. 
 
 " Glad to see you down, Esther. A step in the 
 right direction, eh ? A little good wine will do 
 wonders, Carne. She looks pulled down, I can't allow 
 that." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, you're very kind," Esther turned 
 away her eyes from the miller's searching glances. 
 " But I don't want anything." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense," said Mr. Emmett, with his own tone 
 of authority. " We shall have you well and strong 
 again in no time, with a little common-sense — and 
 careful feeding." He rose, and putting his chair on 
 the same side of the hearth as hers, sat down beside 
 her. 
 
 Esther got up, and crossing the hearthrug stood 
 quietly at the corner of the fire-place with her hand 
 on the mantelpiece. She faced the miller, and the 
 light from the window fell full on her white face and 
 deep sad eyes. 
 
 " If you please, sir," she said, her voice trembling a 
 little, "there is something I would like to say to 
 you." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Emmett, " say whatever you 
 like," he rose too and faced her, with a flush mounting 
 to his florid face. 
 
 " It's this, then " Esther paused with a little 
 
 dryness of the throat, "/ can never marry you" then 
 quicker, as though to make her refusal softer and 
 less abrupt, " You're very kind, you've been good to 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 201 
 
 dad, I thank you very much. But I can never marry 
 you now." 
 
 There was a silence in the cottage only broken by 
 the settling down of the fire in the little grate, and a 
 fall of red-hot cinders ; then the miller said without 
 any emotion or apparent annoyance — 
 
 " And since when they — you made up your mind 
 to this foolish course ? " 
 
 " I have known I did not — not care for you — a 
 long time," said the girl hesitating. 
 
 Mr. Emmett brushed aside this weak suggestion 
 with a gesture of contempt. 
 
 ** I thought you had more sense, Esther, than to talk 
 about ' caring for' a person, as though you were some 
 foolish romantic school-girl. Surely you understand 
 the practical advantages, and you must know too 
 that I should do all in my power to make you 
 thoroughly comfortable and happy." 
 
 "I couldn't be happy — if I didn't love you," said 
 the girl, raising her head ; and the miller saw a new 
 light in her soft eyes and a new expression in the 
 droop of her plaintive mouth. 
 
 "This is childish folly," exclaimed Mr. Emmett, 
 with rising temper. 
 
 Michael stood by with his arms folded, and brows 
 bent on the two ; but he said nothing. 
 
 " Rubbish," went on Mr. Emmett, " sentiment and 
 rubbish, to throw away a large income, property, 
 every advantage. Do you love any one else ? " 
 
 There was a certain tone of insolence in his voice, 
 and Esther drew herself together, raising her head 
 and looking back across the hearthrug at the angry 
 man with something of her old self. 
 
 " Yes— I do," she said. " I love Stephen Weld." 
 
 The miller stared ; then he gave a short rough 
 laugh. 
 
 "Why this is still more romantic. The man has 
 been drowned more than a week." 
 
202 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Esther shivered as though she had been struck with 
 a whip-lash. Michael gave a little exclamation and 
 moved nearer to her. 
 
 " That makes no difference," she said. Her voice 
 was low and strained, and she put out a hand and 
 slid it through her father's arm. "If dad will keep 
 me with him, I shall never want anybody else now." 
 
 The miller laughed again, the little veins in his 
 forehead were swelled, and his eyes looked more 
 prominent than usual. 
 
 " I never heard greater folly. ' Never want any one 
 else.' Look here, Carne, are you going to countenance 
 this romantic madness, and allow your daughter to 
 throw away every worldly advantage because she 
 fancies she is in love with a dead man ? " 
 
 Then Michael spoke for the first time, and all the 
 weakness of hesitation had gone from him. 
 
 " My girl must do as her heart leads her, sir. No 
 money is worth a broken heart ; she shan't marry 
 where she doesn't love, as long as I've hands to work 
 and a roof to cover her." 
 
 There was a pause, Esther pressed the arm she 
 leaned on, and Michael patted her fingers lovingly. 
 Then the miller said, and there was a little dry 
 disagreeable sneer in his tone — 
 
 " That sounds all very fine, and almost as romantic 
 as Esther's notions. But if your hands can't get the 
 work, and if the roof doesn't stay over your head, 
 there's more smoke than fire about it, eh ? " 
 
 Michael drew himself up, there was a little contempt 
 in his refined dark face. 
 
 "You know my difficulties, sir. But that doesn't 
 give you a right to throw it in my face. The boat's 
 there, and I can work as well as another man — as for 
 the house, it's not gone yet, and I'll find a way of 
 keeping it somehow." 
 
 Mr. Emmett made no answer to this. He seemed 
 to wish to say more, and yet to check the desire. 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 203 
 
 He looked at Esther, then from her to Michael, and 
 tapped his boot with his stick. 
 
 Neither father nor daughter spoke. Presently the 
 miller broke the silence. 
 
 "January, isn't it ? Six months is not long to 
 make up fifty pounds, Carne ; don't you think you'd 
 better consider this." 
 
 u I can't go against my girl's feelings, sir." Carne 
 liked the miller, and therefore spoke with a desire 
 to conciliate. " I don't deny that I should have been 
 glad if she could have cared for you enough to marry 
 you, but it isn't right to go against her heart; nothing 
 but trouble comes of a woman marrying for money." 
 
 "You're a fool," said Mr. Emmett dryly. "And 
 as I have made it a practice all my life never to argue 
 with fools, we'll say no more. I think you'll be 
 sorry," he gave a little laugh, and there was a sound 
 in it that made Esther raise her eyes and regard him 
 searchingly. " I think you'll both be very sorry — 
 when the time comes." He moved towards the door, 
 opened it, and stood looking at them with the latch 
 in his hand. His eyes met Esther's, perhaps she had 
 never before looked more beautiful and refined ; the 
 miller's intense desire to win this girl for his wife over- 
 powered his anger and annoyance, and he spoke again. 
 
 " / shall not marry, Esther. I tell you plainly 
 that you won't find another man in a hurry who 
 would do as well by you and give you all that I 
 would. Perhaps now you think you can't agree to 
 it because all this business is fresh in your mind ; 
 but if you look at the matter sensibly, you must see 
 that it's a silly idea for a young woman to throw 
 away all her chances in life for the sake of a romantic 
 notion. I don't care for romance and sentiment 
 myself, it's a poor sort of thing to depend on for a 
 living ; money and comfort is better worth having. 
 You'll find it so yourself — when the shoe pinches." 
 He paused. 
 
204 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Carne looked at Esther, the miller's words, spoken 
 so temperately, had made an impression on his 
 sympathetic nature. But Esther's decision was not 
 an impulse, and her expression did not change. 
 Neither of the men realized that her woman's heart 
 had awakened, too late for its own happiness perhaps 
 but not too late to be true to itself. 
 
 She shook her head with a little smile ; it was 
 not possible to argue, or explain the matter, no one 
 could understand but herself. 
 
 "You say so now," went on Mr. Emmett in a 
 tolerant tone. " I am not a man that changes his 
 mind ; what I say I mean, what I want I usually get. 
 When you think better of it, and make up your mind 
 to use common-sense, your father can tell me, or, 
 better still, you can tell me yourself." 
 
 Carne made as though to speak, but Mr. Emmett 
 waved his hand with a gesture as setting aside 
 discussion. 
 
 " No ; that's all I have to say, except this, which 
 you may as well note because you'll find it's true 
 when the time comes. Money is easier to spend 
 than to get ; once you let yourself in for debt you'll 
 find it gets a grip on you not easily unloosed. You 
 may be romantic, but you won't find that mortgages 
 are romantic, business is business. Good-day to you, 
 Carne. Good-day, Esther," and putting on his hard 
 square felt hat the miller departed, looking round 
 at the garden as he went, in the way that had always 
 annoyed Esther ; to-day she did not notice it. 
 
 For a minute or more there was silence, then 
 Esther sighed wearily, and drawing her arm from 
 her father s turned back to her chair and sat down. 
 Her action was quite unlike her usual self, absorbed, 
 indifferent, grief had made her self-centred. Michael 
 watched her for a moment, and then quietly set about 
 getting dinner, while the girl sat still and stared at 
 the fire. 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 205 
 
 This was only the beginning of many days alike, 
 and Michael Carne's patience was the patience of 
 love. He forgot himself and his grievances, and in 
 his care to shield Esther from trouble, really did harm 
 to a condition which should have been roused from 
 its egotism of sorrow. 
 
 The weeks slipped by and Esther's soul still slept 
 in a trance of brooding grief; regardless of time, of 
 the patient tenderness by her side, of the necessities 
 of life. She had begun doing her daily work again 
 from habit merely ; but there was no life or interest 
 in what she did, and when it was done she sat with 
 idle hands and sad eyes dreaming, rousing herself 
 with a sigh when Michael spoke to her. 
 
 She went in the boat once, but her drawn face and 
 set mouth showed what she was suffering, and so 
 her father did not ask her to go again ; but, setting 
 aside again his own pleasure, went alone with young 
 Dave, pretending he would rather Esther did not 
 come till the weather was warmer ; and she stayed 
 behind with a look of relief, hardly conscious how 
 long he was away, taking it all indifferently. 
 
 The last week in February he took his turn in 
 a journey to Rockhampton. Esther saw him go with 
 a faint stirring of her old solicitous anxiety. It was 
 a spring day, a day such as we often see at the end 
 of winter before the cold spring winds shrivel the 
 earth again. The air was full of soft fresh scents, 
 and the anxious twittering of birds ; that soft twitter 
 that seems to express an awakening of responsibility 
 in the matter of housekeeping. 
 
 She stood at the door leaning her head against 
 the frame, and regarding the surroundings with more 
 interest than she had felt for many weeks. Down 
 each side of the path to the gate a tiny line of 
 drooping white bells had sprung into being ; Esther 
 did not remember them yesterday, or perhaps she 
 had not noticed them ? Behind them again an array 
 
206 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 of delicate shoots showed that the crocuses were not 
 asleep. She wandered down the path looking at 
 them, and from there round the garden, so long 
 neglected. If Miser Tewkesbury could have seen it, 
 he would probably have rightly concluded that his 
 legacy had been left to itself. Fortunately winter 
 months did not so much matter, but even so the 
 brown earth had not been turned, and the refuse of 
 late autumn clogged the ground still. Esther felt 
 ashamed as she looked at it. 
 
 Then the bees, almost forgotten, were beginning to 
 stir. One and one crawled out and back again ; the 
 big lilac bushes and the old laburnums that swung 
 golden banners round the cottage were beginning 
 also to stretch and stir after the winter rest. 
 
 " Summer, summer," said Esther to herself, but 
 with the very words came a pang of memory, a rush 
 of thoughts. Summer without hope of seeing Stephen, 
 long days without hearing his voice ! All the valley 
 awake in golden warmth, and away at the cove 
 sleepy blue water creeping up over the little sand 
 ridges, and no Stephen to see it. No tall figure 
 coming from Salterne way, no deep voice to answer 
 her after a little consideration in the thoughtful way 
 that was one of Stephen's characteristics. It occurred 
 to Esther now, thinking it over, that the reason why 
 he had always looked so seriously, and answered her 
 lightest words in almost a tone of reverence, was 
 because every word she ever uttered had been to him 
 different from other women's words. Every hour 
 they had spent together had been reviewed again 
 and again by the girl in her long brooding hours, and 
 the thought that he loved her was nursed in her most 
 secret consciousness as a thought too sacred for 
 outward expression. While curiously enough Mrs. 
 Fearey had never mentioned this fact to the girl, 
 because she took it so entirely for granted that Esther 
 must know; not realizing the simplicity of nature 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 207 
 
 and humility which did not understand its own 
 charm, and therefore could not take love and admira- 
 tion as a matter of course. 
 
 Now, as she stood silently looking round at the 
 stirring of life, deep down in her heart awoke a 
 longing to be more worthy of love. Love had 
 perhaps come to her, knocking at her door quietly, 
 and she had disregarded the call ; let it pass unthink- 
 ing, to mourn all her life that she had not seen and 
 known in time. But that was no reason why she 
 should live the rest of her life unworthy of the golden 
 gift that had been offered. The tears hung thickly 
 to the girl's heavy lashes as she stood alone, thinking, 
 but they were not altogether hopeless tears, and 
 presently she wiped them away, turned into the 
 kitchen to fetch her hat, came out, locking the door 
 after her, and went away quickly, through the village 
 in the direction where the little grey church stood 
 aside from the road. 
 
 An hour or so later she returned by the other road, 
 going round by the two cottages, for with this 
 awakening of sympathies had come the thought of 
 Stephen's aunt, too long disregarded. 
 
 As Esther turned off the Rockhampton road, 
 almost opposite the gate into the fields on the cliff, 
 she saw a small form in the middle of the road 
 wending its way towards the cottages. Trixie, the 
 old sheep-dog, alone. 
 
 He did not run, as dogs do when out for a walk, 
 from side to side, nor did he appear the least inter- 
 ested in his surroundings. His gait was stiff and 
 weary ; his whole manner that of a thinking person 
 in deep dejection, with drooping head, slack tail, 
 unnoticing, he trotted homewards. 
 
 Esther called him softly, then louder. There was 
 a slight hesitation, a twitch of one grey ear, then 
 he increased his pace a little and continued his 
 route. 
 
208 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " He's deafer than ever, dear old Trixie, boy," said 
 Esther to herself. 
 
 The gate was set half open by a stone. Trixie 
 pushed through and climbed the path ; Esther 
 followed, moving the stone and closing the gate. 
 The garden was neat as labour could make it, the 
 cottage silent, no smoke issuing from the chimney, 
 the door was not closed, but set ajar also by one of 
 the round white stones from the border. 
 
 The old dog pushed through and disappeared. A 
 sudden foreboding clutched at Esther's throat ; she 
 put back the thought ; where the dog was there his 
 mistress must be ; but forgetting to knock she pushed 
 the door open in her eagerness and looked into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was there. Sitting by the little round 
 table before the empty grate, motionless. She was 
 leaning her head on her folded arms, which rested on 
 the table. The small work-worn hands lay open in an 
 attitude of abandon. On the table close by was the 
 felt hat, and a very small pile of cold potatoes on a plate. 
 
 The old dog had gone straight to her side, and 
 sitting down as close as he could press, rested his head 
 on her knee, and turned his eyes up to Esther with 
 that look of patient waiting and humble devotion 
 only seen in the eye of a dog. 
 
 The girl stood stricken. A pang of self-judgment 
 pierced her heart. Her own selfish absorption in 
 grief rose before her ; long weeks of idle brooding 
 and helpless repining. She, young and strong, with a 
 father who loved her close by only waiting to try and 
 comfort her; and here, alone, quite alone in the world, 
 was the woman who had brought up Stephen, and in 
 losing him lost her all. All she had to love ; all her 
 means of support, evidently. Mrs. Fearey had always 
 kept her little affairs to herself; and less charitable 
 neighbours had hinted that she was well off, but 
 Esther had never thought that probable, for her 
 
ESTHER AWAKES 209 
 
 husband had not been one to save, and the little 
 memorials of the past in her kitchen were all that 
 was left of more prosperous days. The fireless grate, 
 the cold potatoes untouched, and above all the 
 pathetic figure before her, struck a blow at Esther's 
 very soul, that in one moment broke down the barrier 
 she had built round her inner self, and swept away 
 the blindness that had prevented her from realizing 
 the breaking of the heart so close to her. 
 
 She sprang forward with her old loving impetuosity, 
 and kneeling down by the dog threw her strong arms 
 round the frail, stooping figure. 
 
 "Aunt Fearey, dorit! Oh please — remember there's 
 me, always." 
 
 The pilot's widow raised her head. Then Esther 
 saw that she was not asleep, or crying, her face had 
 been resting on her Bible, and round that her arms 
 were clasped. 
 
 Her small figure was shrunk, her face was pinched 
 and deeply lined, but the light in her bright eyes was 
 as brave as ever, and she smiled as she kissed the soft 
 cheek that was pressed against hers. 
 
 " Why, dearie girl, did I frighten you ? v she said, 
 " and no wonder. But you might have known by 
 Baby. If I'd a been crying he'd have carried on 
 dreadful, so you couldn't have given him any comfort. 
 But there, he knew well enough, that was why he 
 was sitting so still, bless his heart." 
 
 "Have you had any dinner, auntie?" said Esther. 
 And then, as a faint pink flush stole over the old 
 woman's cheek, she said coaxingly, " Come home with 
 me now, please, please come home. Dad's away for 
 two days. You and Baby come. I can't do without 
 you to-night, you must!' 
 
 Mrs. Fearey hesitated, but Esther's eyes entreated 
 and she went on bravely — 
 
 u I've been wicked and selfish. I've been mad. and 
 dead in my heart. I've neglected dad and the home. 
 
 O 
 
210 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 I've been blind and cruel, a disgrace and shame. 
 Don't stop me, auntie ; you couldnt say anything bad 
 enough for all I've been," her lips trembled, and the 
 tears brimmed over and ran down her cheeks, but 
 she smiled through them, shook her head and 
 went on — 
 
 " Will you let me do something, auntie ? of course 
 I can't be what Steve was, but will you show me 
 how to be more like him t and you ? and will you teach 
 me how you — you find it all in this?" and she laid 
 her hand on the open Bible. "I've been nothing all my 
 life but a selfish thing." Mrs. Fearey tried to stop 
 her, but she only received a hug, and the girl went on 
 — " I haven't, it's true. A live thing, without any soul, 
 I believe ; or anyhow not so much as Trixie. Only 
 just living for sunshine and happy times, and working 
 because I liked it. You don't know, you haven't an 
 idea how selfish and unthinking I've been, and then 
 — I saw you, and him, and I saw he lived for duty, 
 and more than duty, auntie ? " she paused anxiously. 
 
 " More than duty, dearie, yes," said Mrs. Fearey, 
 " he lived for the love of God, did Steve, and to be 
 a true man." 
 
 " That's what I mean exactly, and you do too. 
 Not for anything you can find here." 
 
 " If we lived for what we could find here it would 
 be poor comfort in trouble," answered Mrs. Fearey, 
 stroking Esther's hair. " Life's pretty hard for most ; 
 the older you grow the plainer you'll see that things 
 are fairly equal. Most people have something given 
 them to cut the cords that tie them down ; and it's 
 the truest kindness, you see, dearie, isn't it, when you 
 consider this isn't our real home." 
 
 " All this will you show me because I love 
 Stephen," said Esther. 
 
 " For your sake as well as for his sake," said the 
 little woman, taking the girl's face between her hands 
 and looking earnestly into the deep brown eyes. 
 
THE MILLER'S GRIP 211 
 
 11 Will you show me how to be a real woman, a true 
 woman, worthy of Stephen ? " said Esther again. Mrs. 
 Fearey kissed her, looking into the girl's eyes she 
 thought the true womanhood had been born with the 
 awakening of Esther's soul. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MILLER'S GRIP 
 
 UST a minute, dearie," said Mrs. Fearey 
 as they left the house, and she tapped 
 at the next door. Mary opened it, and 
 the little woman went in, while Esther 
 stood waiting on the step. 
 
 In the second cottage there was not the same 
 appearance of desolation. The room was cosy, a 
 small fire burned brightly, and the two old women 
 looked much as usual. Mrs. Fearey told them she 
 was going to stay with Esther, and promised to call 
 at the usual time to help old Susan to bed. 
 
 " They look better, I think," said Esther, as she 
 closed the gate carefully after holding it open for 
 Trixie to pass. 
 
 " It's the weather brightening," said Mrs. Fearey. 
 
 " The weather has a wonderful effect on poor 
 Susan, I've always noticed that. Poor thing, how 
 she does bear her trouble ! It's a lesson to us all, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 Esther looked down at the little upright figure 
 trotting at her side, with quick appreciation. 
 
 " Auntie," she said suddenly, " what do they do 
 about the rent ? The ten shillings, I mean, that used 
 to come from Rockhampton ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fearey started guiltily, and a flush spread over 
 
212 'THE BROWN BIRD 
 
 her cheek ; she did not meet Esther's searching glance 
 as she said with less than her usual decision — 
 
 " Oh, that's all right so far. They haven't missed 
 it — that is, not yet — they can do." 
 
 " That means to say that they are getting it still," 
 said Esther, pushing the question as she saw it was 
 evaded. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey looked round fussily, and called the 
 dog who was close at her heels. 
 
 "Auntie," went on Esther, almost inclined to laugh, 
 though there were tears in her voice, " don't try and 
 put me off. You know you send that ten shillings 
 yourself, and you know you can't afford it." 
 
 " Why, bless you, dearie," exclaimed Mrs. Fearey 
 in an aggrieved tone, " now I ask you, could they do 
 without it? Two of them, let alone poor Susan's 
 health, and me only one, and as strong as can be. 
 Now don't you go and give Mary an idea." 
 
 Esther shook her head and bit her lips, while the 
 pilot's widow free to speak chattered on. 
 
 " I always said it was my dear boy, didn't I, dearie ? " 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 " Well, I waited, and the day passed ; the money 
 never came as usual. I just watched to see, and there 
 was Mary coming to the door when the postman 
 passed, and she'd look after him, and then go in and 
 shut the door. I used to go in and see them, and not 
 a word did they say to complain. It meant a lot 
 to them, you see, dearie girl, because rent must be 
 paid, and there was nothing put by to meet it. So I 
 just made an errand to Rockhampton and sent it 
 myself; I've got things by me I shall never miss, it 
 was nothing to me. 11 
 
 Esther put out her hand and took the other's in it. 
 Mrs. Fearey gave the girl's hand a little squeeze, and 
 went on cheerfully as they walked hand-in-hand. 
 
 " It was worth ten pounds, let alone ten shillings, to 
 see Mary's face when the postman came. ' What 
 
THE MILLER'S GRIP 21 3 
 
 is it, Mary ? ' I said, coming to my door. ' It's 
 our rent/ she says, opening the letter and taking 
 out the postal-order. I'd sent it just as usual, 
 having seen it many's the time. ' Oh you're all right 
 then,' I said ; ' isn't it a bit late this time ? ' ' Well,' she 
 says, ' it might have been a little late,' as if her heart 
 hadn't been in her mouth for days and days. ' But 
 there,' she said, ' it only shows my poor faith, getting 
 anxious when the Lord is always waiting there to 
 help. I'm ashamed,' she said, ' it'll be a lesson to me.' 
 Dear ! I was glad." 
 
 " Has anybody ever told you, you are an angel ? " 
 said Esther, as she held the gate open. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey laughed. 
 
 " A7igel — I like that. No, dearie, not even Fearey. 
 I'm not the kind to be compared to angels. Nothing 
 but a plain woman ; I can't remember that any one 
 ever told me I was good-looking, for that matter." 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you, you are an angel, and a dear 
 little fairy godmother like a story-book ; and besides 
 that, you are like a robin that stays by us all the 
 dark weather when the other birds go ; and you're 
 like sweet herbs growing in the background, not pre- 
 tending to be flowers, and yet just as sweet and use- 
 ful besides — I could tell you heaps of things you 
 remind me of." 
 
 " Well," said the little woman, smiling, " that's 
 the finest speech I've ever had made to me. I never 
 saw such a child ! Now let me go and have a look 
 at those bees of yours." 
 
 " Not a single thing shall you do till you've had 
 dinner," exclaimed Esther despotically. " Don't 
 imagine for one moment you've come here to do as 
 you like. I've got you, and you are to do as / like." 
 
 Those three days passed happily for each one of 
 the little party. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey told Esther all Stephen had said about 
 his love, and how he had made up his mind that he 
 
214 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 would not show it. And when Esther understood that 
 he had not avoided her from annoyance, but because 
 he dare not see her, little shafts of sunshine shot into 
 her gloom, the darkest corners were lighted up, and 
 her sore heart had rest in the consciousness that 
 she owned the whole love of this good man. 
 
 " If only, auntie, if only he could have known that I 
 loved him," she said, with her cheek on Mrs. Fearey's 
 knee. 
 
 " You didn't know it yourself, dearie, not then. But 
 never mind, he knows now, I expect. And, after all, 
 this life is such a little bit of time at the longest ; at 
 least, so a person feels when they get to my years ; 
 such a little bit of time to look back at." 
 
 Esther said nothing, but she thought, as many a 
 young soul has thought before, that a life-time is very 
 long to look forward to, especially when you think 
 you have missed all that could make it happy. 
 
 When Mrs. Fearey returned home something of her 
 old manner had returned ; and as for Trixie, his stay 
 with Esther had made a firm impression on his mind, 
 and from that day he made a point of visiting her in 
 her daily walks with a constant patronage and lively 
 sense of the warmth and comfort found at old 
 Tewkesbury's cottage, on the day that his own home 
 had been barren of all satisfaction. 
 
 Esther went to the gate, and even wandered down 
 the road on the evening she expected her father. She 
 could not tell the exact hour, but her knowledge of 
 tides and wind made her a fairly accurate judge. She 
 was restless to welcome him. The sense of her neglect 
 during the last weeks distressed her now, even out of 
 all proportion it loomed as a shame and disgrace ; and 
 she was eager to wipe it out. It is one of the most 
 certain things in life, that when we arrange how a 
 thing should happen, it should not occur as we 
 expected. Sometimes, when we have been ready to 
 humble ourselves to the utmost, the humility is not 
 
THE MILLERS GRIP 215 
 
 required of us ; and sometimes, when in an enthusiasm 
 of repentance, we picture other people delighted to 
 recognize it and receive us with the same enthusiasm, 
 we find we are unnoticed. 
 
 Esther had been down to the gate and back several 
 times before her father came ; and he appeared at 
 the door as she was making up the fire, the noise of 
 the shovel preventing the sound of his step from 
 reaching her. 
 
 She stood up quickly and made a step forward, 
 her heart beating, and her sweet eyes shining. But 
 Michael did not look at her. 
 
 His face was grey and tired ; two deep lines showed 
 by his mouth, and his brows were drawn down ; he 
 came slowly up to the fire, and leaning his elbow 
 against the high shelf, passed his hand wearily over 
 his eyes. 
 
 A cold sense of disappointment fell on Esther. She 
 drew near, and passing her hand through his arm, laid 
 her head against his sleeve in her old coaxing way. 
 Carne pressed her hand against his side in answer as 
 it were, but he did not move. 
 
 " Dad," said Esther presently, " is there anything 
 the matter ? " 
 
 No answer, but he turned his head away a little more. 
 
 " Dad, I wish you'd tell me." 
 
 A little tremble passed through the arm she held ; 
 and Esther, looking up anxiously, presently saw a 
 tear creep down from under the strong knotted fingers 
 that covered his eyes. 
 
 "Oh, dad, don't. What is it? Please tell me; 
 nothing will be so bad if you'll tell me." 
 
 Michael moved slightly and looked round at her. 
 His eyes were dull, and stained with the slow tears 
 of a man who feels strongly. 
 
 " I've been a fool, my girl," he said brokenly. 
 " Counting on mercy when there is none. I've ruined 
 us both." 
 
2l6 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 "The house? 55 
 
 " It'll have to go. We've lost everything. The fool 
 I 5 ve been not to see ! " and Carne clenched his hard 
 hands. 
 
 " Won't they wait, dad ? " Esther asked the question 
 as he paused, but she knew what the answer must be 
 from his face. 
 
 " Wait ! No. It's been a trap all along, Esther, to 
 get the house from us, and I was so blind I never 
 thought." 
 
 " A trap ! " The girl echoed the words with a deadly 
 coldness settling on her heart. 
 
 " I can see it all now it's too late," went on Carne 
 restlessly. " See the reason of the terms as plain as 
 possible. Don't you remember ? We were not to 
 have less than fifty pounds — a big sum to payback at 
 once. We were not to have it for more than a year. 
 We were to take it or leave it, then, no time to 
 consider ; and no time to find out who the lender 
 might be." 
 
 Esther nodded as she met his eyes, and the cold 
 fear clutched closer at her brain. 
 
 " I can't think why I never guessed ! — but there, 
 when you've made up your mind you want a thing, 
 you're only too ready to believe it's all plain sailing. 
 The same lawyers too. ' Our client ' " — he dwelt on the 
 words with extreme bitterness. " I might have known 
 it would pay them to serve his purpose ; blind fool I've 
 been ! " 
 
 " Father," said Esther, and her lips were dry, " do 
 you mean that the miller is the man who — who holds 
 the mortgage ? " 
 
 " That's exactly what I do mean," answered Carne 
 grimly. 
 
 Both were silent, thinking their own thoughts. 
 Presently Esther said, and her voice was very quiet, 
 " Now I see what he meant that day, the last time he 
 was here — we should be sorry ' when the shoe pinched.' 
 
THE MILLERS CxRIP 2\J 
 
 I thought he meant when we were very poor, perhaps ; 
 he must have been thinking of this" 
 
 " Thinking," repeated Carne savagely ; " I should 
 say he was thinking." 
 
 "Who told you this?" asked the girl; her mind 
 was feeling as it were to realize the limits of the 
 calamity, and its possibilities in the future. 
 
 "He told me — the lawyer," answered Carne drearily. 
 " There isn't any mistake. I went there to ask if the 
 mortgage could be renewed. To tell the truth I 
 hadn't worried overmuch, because I knew we could 
 meet the interest now I'm well again. I told him 
 things had been against me, and the money had been 
 used for necessities. He said ' Quite likely,' and smiled. 
 Then I said, I'd be pleased to pay even higher interest 
 for extended time, and he said it was impossible ; that 
 his instructions were to foreclose when the time 
 expired, unless the ,£50 were paid down in full. I 
 tried him every way. Then he said, ' I may as well 
 tell you, Mr. Carne, that the holder of the mortgage is 
 Mr. Emmett, the miller of Durlmouth, and that he 
 instructed us to lend you this money in order that 
 the cottage might not fall into other hands, as he has 
 long intended to purchase it, if possible.' Might not 
 fall into other hands ! Might not fall into any hands 
 but his own ! That was in his heart from the first. 
 Envy of this corner-bit that bites a scrap out of his 
 big fields. Robber ! As if he hadn't enough already, 
 but he must fasten on our little home, and sweep it 
 in with the rest." And Carne ended with a heavy 
 sob, and a string of passionate invectives muttered 
 between his teeth. 
 
 " I wonder that he didn't tell us himself before," 
 said Esther, not because she really wondered, but 
 because she had to say something, and her mind was 
 sterile of ideas. 
 
 " He took care we shouldn't know his name at 
 first," said her father. "Afterwards it didn't really 
 
218 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 matter, I suppose. He was quiet enough about it as 
 long as all was friendly. I remember how he looked 
 when I told him about it first; not a bit of 
 expression." 
 
 " He never had any expression," remarked Esther 
 softly, with a little flash of her old fun, but Michael 
 was too angry to notice. 
 
 " He drew me out as to what we'd spent, and what 
 was left, and so on. I remember one day when I was 
 down about the paying he said it couldn't be of any 
 consequence ; of course it could easily be renewed. 
 Liar ! " 
 
 " Dad," said Esther, and her voice trembled. 
 " Don't you see it's really all my fault ? I know why 
 he didn't show before ; because he thought — you 
 know — I should marry him, and I expect he thought 
 he'd give it to us in a grand way, as a surprise. It is 
 I that have brought this on you really, of course. We 
 should never have heard any more about the mort- 
 gage if I had done as he wished. It seems — it seems 
 
 as though " She broke down and clung to her 
 
 father's arm, crying bitterly; and the bitterest cause of 
 her weeping lay in the fact that at the very moment 
 she had intended to bring her father happiness, and 
 wipe out the memory of her selfish sorrow, the blow 
 had fallen that made her the innocent cause of his 
 ruin. 
 
 Michael did not understand entirely how she felt, 
 but he realized that she fancied the fault was hers, 
 and soothed her with tender words and reassurances. 
 
 " Don't you fret, my girl. I've said too much and 
 made you ill again. There, what does it matter? Let 
 the house go, we've got the boat. We had no house 
 before ; we'll live on the boat, if that's all, and not be 
 in any man's grip." Then in answer to a stifled murmur 
 from Esther about having brought it on him, he went 
 on persuasively — 
 
 " Put that out of your head once for all. I wouldn't 
 
THE MILLER'S GRIP 219 
 
 let you marry the fellow now for twenty times his 
 income. My daughter shouldn't go to a man of his 
 stamp. I thought he was a good sort. There, Esther, 
 girl, cheer up ; don't you think I regret it ; let's be 
 thankful we found out he was that sort in time. It 
 might have been worse ; you might have married him." 
 
 Esther knew that much of this was said to soothe 
 her, but she looked back smiles and love into the dark 
 eyes bent on her so anxiously ; and in a little while 
 they both recovered somewhat, and were able to talk 
 more quietly. 
 
 There was not the slightest hope of saving the 
 house. They could live. They could pay the interest 
 and even save five shillings a week perhaps, if the 
 work continued, but they could not save fifty pounds 
 before the end of July. 
 
 Nothing would be gained by selling the boat ; 
 because it would deprive them of their means of 
 livelihood. It occurred to Esther that this might be 
 done if her father would reconcile himself to working 
 as a " hand," instead of owner ; she suggested it with 
 some diffidence, but Carne shook his head. 
 
 Brozvn Bird was not worth fifty pounds. She was 
 old. Well kept, it was true ; but tinkered up, old- 
 fashioned, without the most modern conveniences. And 
 the brown sails from which she took her name were 
 patched and thin. It was almost a relief to them both 
 to realize that this alternative was impossible. 
 
 " She's not a bit of good," said Carne eagerly ; 
 " not a bit. Nobody would give twenty pounds for 
 her, not if they knew anything about a boat." And 
 Esther as warmly agreed. 
 
 Later on the girl told her father about Mrs. Fearey, 
 and what she had seen at two cottages. She told him 
 about the ten shillings, of how it had been Steve's 
 little charity, among many others, and how the two 
 old widows knew nothing of the giver. Carne listened 
 with his eyes on the fire, and at the end of the recital 
 
220 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 took his pipe from his lips and pushed the tobacco 
 down into the bowl with a ringer that shook a little. 
 Then he raised his sad eyes and looked at Esther 
 across the small table. 
 
 " A little while ago I was ready to say that the 
 world was full of cruel-hearted people who enjoyed 
 the misery of others," he said thoughtfully. u I 
 thought of the lawyer, not minding who was ruined — 
 all in the way of business. I dare say he's a good 
 enough fellow in his own family. I thought of 
 Emmett planning to get our little home ; and the 
 people here who would glory to see us turned out. 
 As I came back to-day, all the way I was staring at 
 the sea and thinking the world's a cruel hard place ; 
 no pity for them who go under. And now you tell 
 me all this ; the poor saving the poor from starvation, 
 loving-hearted and merciful " 
 
 " Dad," said Esther suddenly, stretching her hands 
 impulsively towards him across the little table. 
 " Dad, don't mind my saying, will you, I know now, 
 because Mrs. Fearey has showed me. It isn't a 
 chance of people's natures, just whether they happen 
 to be kind or not — like we thought. It's God — it's 
 love. The same thing really. They love other 
 people because they love God. Don't you see ? I 
 can't put it like she can. She knows it all, she knows 
 the Bible by heart. It's love for everybody makes 
 them so good ; and belief and faith in God's love 
 makes them trust, however bad things are. Mrs. 
 Fearey isn't afraid of anything — d' you see ? And 
 old Mary and Susan don't fear they'll be forgotten. 
 They trust Him to remember them, exactly as I know 
 you'd remember me. Dad, I do so want to be the 
 same. I'm trying to get like Mrs. Fearey in trusting. 
 I do believe ; it's plain and straight for any one to 
 understand. You guide your life by it, and then the 
 trust comes and grows and grows till you don't mind 
 what happens ; things can't shake you." 
 
THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 221 
 
 She looked at him wistfully, and Carne, looking 
 back, saw a new light and depth in her lovely eyes. 
 
 " If you'll go with me, dad, in trying, I shan't have 
 a thing to wish for." 
 
 Carne grasped the two slim hands stretched across 
 the table in his own, and looked down at them 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 u We'd need have something, my girl," he said, after 
 a pause of consideration. "We'd need have some- 
 thing when the world seems to be slipping away, 
 and you find you're losing all you thought you'd got. 
 The old boat's rotten ; I'm getting on in years, and 
 couldn't work her long if she was likely to last for 
 ever. The little home I thought would be ours is 
 going to be sold over our heads. We'd need have 
 something to hold to ; and some one to care. He 
 paused again, and then said with a smile that lighted 
 his eyes to a likeness of the sweet ones fixed on his — 
 " Yes, my girl. You shall tell me what you like, I'll 
 only be too thankful to hear, and go with you in 
 trying. I'm a poor wretched failure, that's about it. 
 I'd need trust in God, for I can't trust myself. I've 
 made nothing of life — without Him." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 
 
 R. EMMETT sat at breakfast on a glorious 
 morning in the beginning of June, with a 
 sense of comfort and well-being pervading 
 his mind and body. It cannot be said 
 that Mr. Emmett had a conscience; indeed 
 he did not recognize the existence of such a capacity, 
 for he would have called any inconvenient misgiving 
 
222 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " sentiment," and he did not know what it was to feel 
 shame. Transactions that had their merit in over- 
 reaching other people were, in the miller's eyes, busi- 
 ness, and distinctly laudable; while want of heart, 
 incapacity for sympathy, absence of tenderness and 
 so on, were, to his ideas, enviable states of mind to 
 be cultivated and admired, as likely to tend more 
 than anything else to the increase of banking accounts 
 and the growth of solid worldly possessions. 
 
 His system had answered excellently, as proved by 
 his pass-book, and he was entirely contented both 
 with it and himself. 
 
 It has been said before that nothing, however trivial, 
 that happened in Durlmouth escaped the miller's 
 notice; therefore the change in Esther had excited in 
 him first interest, in wondering what she expected to 
 gain by it; and secondly, contempt, when he perceived 
 that she was actually losing, from his standpoint. 
 
 He knew the debt could not be paid, for he himself 
 regulated Carne's voyages and paid for them, and 
 yet both father and daughter appeared to wear an air 
 of serenity that puzzled Mr. Emmett. 
 
 Esther worked in the garden all the springtime, 
 and it was now an example of care and cultivation. 
 She went in the ketch and sold her honey at Salterne 
 or Rockhampton, even that the miller knew, also how 
 much a pound she got for it. All this he could 
 understand, but there were other things Esther did 
 that appeared to the miller as folly of the weakest 
 kind. 
 
 Esther helped Stephen's aunt in many ways ; worked 
 in her garden, collected wood for her fire, shared food 
 with her by all sorts of pretexts; sometimes pretending 
 she wanted her cooking tasted ; often taking presents 
 from Salterne or Rockhampton. 
 
 Carne insisted that he and his daughter were under 
 numberless obligations to Mrs. Fearey for all the 
 weeks of nursing and many friendly offices. He was 
 
THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 223 
 
 deeply hurt at any attempt at refusal, so Mrs. Fearey 
 accepted as she would have given, taking it all as 
 blessings, without false pride or repinings. 
 
 Then Esther might be seen pulling old Susan's 
 chair along the roads for shelter, on to the cliff waste 
 for air. Mrs. Saunders, journeying from Rockhampton 
 on a market-day, had come upon them resting by the 
 side of the road; old Susan asleep in the sunshine; 
 Esther making primroses up into bunches as she sat 
 on the bank, and had stopped to stare, hurrying home 
 afterwards to tell her husband, who duly reported it 
 all to his master. 
 
 The miller himself met her carrying Lily Kentfield 
 and talking to "young Reube," who ran by her side 
 waving a peeled stick. 
 
 Mrs. Saunders was very scornful about the way 
 "that Carne girl had got over" Mrs. Kentfield, but 
 Esther had used no guile. She went to the Kent- 
 fields' house one day, not long after her talk with her 
 father, and asked if she might have Lily to tea. 
 
 Mrs. Kentfield was not an ill-natured woman, and 
 the indefinable alteration in Esther touched her. She 
 remembered that this girl had lost her lover, and 
 refused to marry the rich miller for love of his memory. 
 She recognized now, in the light of experience, that 
 the Carnes had not ruined her, nor taken the bread 
 out of her children's mouths, as Mrs. Saunders had 
 prophesied. She knew that Carne worked as hard 
 as any other man, and earned no better money. 
 Esther had not " lauded over " the village in the days 
 of the miller's patronage, she had certainly ignored 
 them, but then Mrs. Kentfield knew well enough she 
 had been treated in unneighbourly fashion, and deep 
 down in the woman's heart was knowledge of, and 
 shame for, a certain cruel destruction of brown sails, 
 the actual perpetrators of which had never been 
 exposed. 
 
 Therefore when the open door revealed Esther 
 
224 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 standing thinner, paler, with a sort of serene patience 
 shining from her soft deep eyes, Mrs. Kentfield wiped 
 her elbows on her apron and came forward with a 
 nervous fluster of manner. Esther smiled. 
 
 " I came to ask a favour, Mrs. Kentfield. Has Lily 
 forgotten me ? — would you let me have her and 
 Reuben to tea?" 
 
 Mrs. Kentfield found herself saying, "Thank you 
 very much," and offering a chair, which Esther took, 
 and in a few minutes they were talking of the children 
 and the gardens, and more wonderful still of the 
 boats and voyages. There was a new Kentfield baby 
 which Lily pointed out with fingers in mouth, and 
 Esther admired it with a genuine delight and amaze 
 at its beauty that went to its mother's heart. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you can have Lily, and thank you kindly," 
 Mrs. Kentfield found herself saying at the door in a 
 tone of friendliness that drew Mrs. Saunders' re- 
 proachful eye to the window of the next door house. 
 But Mrs. Kentfield was not to be browbeaten, even 
 by Mrs. Saunders, and talked in pleasant tones mainly 
 directed at the watching eye, till Esther departed with 
 Lily in a clean pinafore. 
 
 " Well, I am surprised," said Mrs. Saunders from 
 the half-open door ; " some people can turn round so 
 that you don't know where to have them." 
 
 " And some people are so jealous they'd spite the 
 very gooseberries on the bushes," retorted Mrs. Kent- 
 field, with reckless simile, suggested by her own front 
 garden ; and then she went in and shut her door and 
 sang to the baby with a pleasing sense of triumph. 
 
 This was how Esther came to be carrying Lily 
 Kentfield when the miller saw her; she looked at him 
 with serene, soft eyes, and Mr. Emmett was faintly 
 conscious of a stir in his heart, more than admiration, 
 perhaps reverence, for this beautiful, gentle woman 
 with the child's arms clasped tightly round her neck. 
 
 In these ways and others, too many to detail, 
 
THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 225 
 
 Esther had lived through the spring months, and 
 proved that the love sown in her heart was the real 
 Spirit of Love, and no fleeting impulse. All of it had 
 Mr. Emmett observed, and without understanding the 
 root of the growth, he approved of the result, and 
 desired more than ever to marry her. 
 
 On this particular morning he had been reading 
 letters from his solicitor, and it recalled to his mind 
 how close the time was drawing for the final transaction 
 over the Carnes 5 business. 
 
 " I shall pull down the cottage at once," thought 
 Mr. Emmett, "and dig the whole thing in, it spoils 
 the look of the Big Field, to my mind," and with a 
 comfortable sense of doing what he had long wished, 
 he began opening his newspapers. 
 
 The miller took in several, and some of them were 
 large and difficult to fold tightly. He tore the cover 
 off one and opened it out; as he did so a foreign 
 envelope of the usual long thin form dropped at his 
 feet. It had slipped into the folds of the paper, un- 
 noticed by the postman. Mr. Emmett stooped to 
 pick it up without a thought beyond a little surprise 
 at the discovery, and looked at the address — 
 
 Mrs. Emma Fearey, 
 
 The Two Cottages, 
 Durlmouth Cove, 
 
 Dorsetshire, England. 
 
 and the Canadian stamp with a postmark, Van- 
 couver, May 1 6. 
 
 The miller stared at the envelope, at the stamp, at 
 the postmark. The handwriting was large and good, 
 careful and not very flowing ; there was a seal of red 
 wax, pressed by an English sixpence apparently. 
 
 For full five minutes the miller sat, then he put the 
 letter in his breast-pocket, and rising from his arm- 
 chair went to the window and stared out at the quay. 
 
 Presently he went out, gave his orders, looked round 
 
 p 
 
226 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 after his usual habit and returned, sat down again and 
 took up his newspaper, but he did not read it, his 
 eyes ran along the lines unseeing, returning again and 
 again to the same place. After a full quarter of an 
 hour he threw down the paper and took out the letter 
 again and looked at it, then suddenly as by an 
 overpowering impulse opened it and unfolded the 
 sheets. 
 
 He looked at the beginning, "My dear Aunt." 
 He looked at the signature, " Your ever loving nephew, 
 Steve." 
 
 Then he began again at the beginning and read 
 the letter all through. The writing swam before his 
 eyes; full his head felt, full and throbbing, it was 
 difficult to take it all in. 
 
 " Saved. Picked up in the Channel by a big four- 
 masted barque running from London to Vancouver 
 with a mixed cargo. Went over with the mizzen 
 when he was hacking at it, but held on, and was 
 washed out by the strong ebb tide. Had on his cork 
 belt, and managed to lash himself with some of the 
 rope to the mast. After that could not remember 
 much but the terrible cold. Was sighted next morn- 
 ing and picked up unconscious for dead. Didn't 
 remember anything for many days, and only awoke 
 to rheumatic fever and weeks of suffering." 
 
 The miller looked up when he got thus far and 
 stared at the opposite wall. After considering 
 awhile he went on, and his face was harder than 
 before. 
 
 " Terrible time round the Horn, shifting cargo, and 
 he couldn't move hand or foot; the other chaps as 
 good to him as possible, but a pretty rough time for 
 all. Writing this anchored just inside Cape Flattery 
 off a real little American log city, only about thirty 
 log huts, but everything called a 'city' out there; 
 waiting for a towboat to pull the ship into Victoria. 
 She was to be there about four weeks, the same in 
 
THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 227 
 
 Vancouver, and probably Tacoma too. But he was 
 pretty well by this time, and was going to try and 
 work his passage back on a steam-line to get home 
 quicker. Was going to do his best to ship on the 
 return journey at once, as he was afraid it would be 
 impossible to come across America because of the 
 expense." 
 
 The miller read on through all the anxious inquiries 
 and fears for his old aunt's health. Stephen's grief 
 at not being able to assure her earlier of his safety, 
 and thankfulness that the post after all was only a 
 fortnight and five days from Vancouver, so that she 
 could not be left in sorrow much longer. Then came 
 careful instructions about the little sum still laid by 
 in the local bank at Salterne, and an order on the 
 bank written on half a sheet of paper, carefully signed, 
 and made out to Emma Fearey, for the £10 still 
 banked ; with a request to his aunt to go to the 
 bank with the letter and order and present it herself 
 when she would receive the money, and be able to 
 tide over the time till he could return. 
 
 The letter ended with a postscript. 
 
 " I suppose Esther will be married by the time I 
 come home ? Bad as all this has been, perhaps it was 
 all for the best, as it keeps one out of the way, and 
 gives you something to think about." 
 
 The miller read this two or three times over, then a 
 heavy flush crept over his face and forehead. " Curse 
 the fellow," he said slowly, " why couldn't he drown 
 like the others." 
 
 Then he deliberately twisted the thin sheets up 
 into a long paper-light, and striking a match on his 
 boot sole set fire to it, and held it till it burned to the 
 end, then he threw it down and ground his heel on it. 
 He did the same to the envelope, and lastly to the 
 cheque. Having consumed the three, he gave a short 
 laugh, and put his hands in his pockets, and strolled out 
 of the room. The soft summer air blew into the window 
 
228 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 swayed the clean muslin curtains and the white blind 
 tassels, caught up the tiny grey shreds of charred 
 paper and fluttered them away in the draught of the 
 door, which presently banged, leaving the last wee 
 particles of Stephen's loving letter to settle in the 
 corners, lost for ever. 
 
 It has been said that Mr. Emmett had no conscience. 
 The act that he had just perpetrated did not disturb 
 him in the least, nor did he give the nature of it a 
 second thought. " Funny chance that, about the 
 letter coming to me," he thought, as he stood in the 
 mill-house watching the machinery and the busy 
 workers. "If they'd got it just now it would have 
 been the finishing touch. If the girl knew he was 
 alive there wouldn't be a chance. Whereas now — you 
 can't tell — it isn't pleasant to be turned out of house 
 and home. She'll change her mind when it comes to 
 the last." To the little patient woman grieving in 
 poverty he gave not one thought. 
 
 So the weeks crept on towards the end of the year's 
 grace. The end of July would see the anniversary of 
 the day when Michael Carne raised the fifty pounds. 
 He and Esther had ceased to struggle or repine. The 
 helplessness of their position had made them trust 
 perforce ; sometimes people will not surrender them- 
 selves as long as they have any belief in their own 
 powers ; it requires the sense of weakness and hopeless 
 inability to avert calamity to force them to lean only 
 on God, and place all in His hands. Michael kept 
 his eyes from wandering to the little possession which 
 had given him such proud satisfaction when he first 
 came to Durlmouth. Prettier than ever in its summer 
 dress, " old Tewkesbury's cottage " was like a picture, 
 the clean paint, new thatch, and well-kept garden 
 making it as desirable a little home outside as Esther's 
 care and clever fingers did inside. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey knew about the trouble. Esther was 
 surprised that she showed so little astonishment. 
 
THE MILLER HAS NO CONSCIENCE 229 
 
 " I guessed, my dearie ! " said the little woman 
 sadly. 
 
 " Why — what should have made you think that ? " 
 
 " It was something our Steve said one day he come 
 home. You and your father were away, and Steve 
 saw the miller in the garden looking over the place. 
 It came over me all in a minute then, like the story 
 of the King and the pretty vineyard in the Bible." 
 
 " Did Steve know, did you tell him ? " asked 
 Esther. 
 
 " I told him what I fancied ; but Steve could 
 hardly think any man could do such a thing ; it was 
 difficult for him to suspect always, you know, dearie." 
 
 " I know," said Esther, and her eyes were very soft. 
 
 " But it worked on his mind all the same," went on 
 the little woman. " It was that chiefly made him 
 keep away ; knowing he couldn't pay the thing him- 
 self, he couldn't bear to ask you to lose a home for 
 him ; you see, that was how it was." 
 
 And Esther did see. 
 
 In the beginning of July, Michael Carne wrote to 
 the miller, offering to pay a good rent for the cottage 
 if he might be allowed to remain till he could save 
 enough to pay the debt. The miller replied in 
 business terms that he could not accept the offer, as 
 he had long decided to pull down the cottage. 
 
 Esther turned very white as she finished the letter. 
 There was a postscript. 
 
 " If Esther chooses to change her mind, I will give 
 her the cottage as a wedding present." 
 
 She raised her eyes to her father's with pathetic 
 pleading in their gentle depths. 
 
 Michael answered the question in them with quiet 
 resolution. 
 
 " No, dear, no. Don't give it a thought. If the 
 Almighty means us to go He'll take care of us some- 
 where else. We're not going to trust half, you and 
 me, eh, Esther ? " 
 
230 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 In the evening Mrs. Fearey came in, with Baby at 
 her heels, to speak to Michael. 
 
 " The child has told me about the letter, Mr. Carne," 
 she said, setting her hat straight with a little 
 agitation. " It's a troubling letter." 
 
 " It is that, ma'am," said Michael smiling. 
 
 " I see you haven't lost faith that it's somehow for 
 the best, Mr. Carne?" and the little woman looked 
 as happy as though they had been discussing the 
 brightest news. 
 
 " Well, I suppose faith is meant for foul weather as 
 well as fair," said Michael, " else it wouldn't be a very 
 real sort of thing. No, Esther and I mean to take 
 what comes." 
 
 " Because it's sent. There you are, now that's good 
 hearing, and if you'll believe me, Mr. Carne, who has 
 tried it these many years now, that I never had so 
 much happiness before, in spite of all the trials sent. 
 But what I wanted to say particularly was, that sup- 
 posing things do go cross, supposing they really do — 
 all they say ; you and Esther will come up to the 
 two cottages, and live with me, at least, for a bit. It's 
 no obligation," she went on quickly, as Michael 
 exclaimed. " There isn't another house in the village, 
 that was all I was thinking, and you don't want to 
 leave your employment. It will be share and share, 
 plenty of room for three ; why, look at the treat it 
 would be to me and Baby to have Esther when you 
 were away. You may look at it that you'd be doing 
 a charity really, Mr. Carne, because I'm a poor woman. 
 It's pleased the Almighty to make it hard living at 
 times for me, and it would be a benefit to share the 
 house." 
 
 " Mrs. Fearey," said Michael, " you're a good friend. 
 I'll take it just as you mean it, and say it would be 
 the best thing for us, too, for a while, anyway. I 
 may tell you that it has worried me a bit about where 
 to live ; I'd thought it must be the boat, but that 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 23 1 
 
 wouldn't be comfortable for Esther. There's not a 
 place in the village, and it would have been a bit hard 
 on us to have to lose the work. Thank you, ma'am, 
 you're very good." 
 
 So it was settled, and the plan became a subject of 
 discussion between the friends. The furniture was 
 the most difficult question, and this was not so 
 difficult as at first appeared, for the simple reason 
 that Mrs. Fearey had so wonderfully little, when 
 you came to look at it, that a little more would be 
 welcome, and Mary and Susan offered to house the 
 rest till such time as it should be wanted. 
 
 " They've got an empty room up-stairs, you see," 
 said Mrs. Fearey triumphantly. " It's wonderful how 
 things seem to fit in, isn't it, as convenient as can 
 be ? really it seems as the two cottages were made 
 to hold us all ; and think of the company we shall be, 
 so happy all together." 
 
 Esther kissed the little woman with a smile, and a 
 shine on her long lashes. The eager, loving welcome, 
 the gay " plans," all for their benefit, seemed to warm 
 away the little chill that sometimes would creep into 
 her heart in spite of her brave struggle. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ESTHER AND TRIXIE PULL UP A GOOSEBERRY BUSH 
 
 OME days after this arrangement was con- 
 cluded Esther was alone in the cottage. 
 Tea was over, and Michael gone down to 
 the quay to set The Bird in perfect 
 order after a thunderstorm that had 
 necessitated the drying of all the sails. 
 
 A restless spirit had taken possession of the girl. 
 She had wandered over the little house setting chairs 
 
232 C THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 straight, and re-tying curtains ; and as she looked 
 round at the little sitting-room her heart sank with a 
 sudden shock of pain. Dear little, pretty little house ! 
 to be soon a pile of dust and rubbish. The windows 
 were set open, and the roses tapped against the pane 
 outside. The big lavender bushes were in bud, and 
 the little path banked either side by sweet-scented 
 flowers. Esther leaned against the doorway and 
 looked out. 
 
 Only a fortnight more would it be theirs, their very 
 own. She remembered the pride and joy with which 
 they received news of the will. A house of their own; 
 no rent to pay ! Little more than a year ago, and 
 now it was going. The dream would pass like her 
 dream of love, and life would always go on, dull and 
 monotonous, and she would grow old and still go on 
 working, perhaps in some ugly place. She struggled 
 against the depression that overwhelmed her, turning 
 her eyes away from the pretty garden to the quiet 
 cliffs and the lovely summer sky. 
 
 " Thunderclouds broken up and sailing away and 
 away," thought Esther, as the golden light fell aslant 
 the valley and streamed across the garden, showing 
 up the thousands of diamond drops on the bushes and 
 flowers. "Thunderstorms in our lives are dark and 
 terrible, but they break when God wills, and the light 
 will come if we are patient." 
 
 Her thoughts were interrupted by the shaking of 
 the garden gate, which was pushed from the outside. 
 The latch had not caught, and a grey nose was pre- 
 sently visible, followed by the staid form of Trixie, 
 who ambled up the path without looking to right or 
 left. 
 
 " Come along, Trixie, boy," said Esther. K That's 
 right, I was just getting discontented, and you've 
 come to tell me what a lot we've got to be thankful 
 for." 
 
 The old dog answered the voice by agitation of his 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 233 
 
 tail, and trotting up to the door, paused by the girl, 
 and licked the hand she put down to pat his head. 
 
 Esther sat down on the doorstep, and with her 
 cheek against the grey head of the dog, and talked to 
 him in a low voice which he seemed to understand, 
 for the faithful eye shone with sympathy, and now 
 and again a stiff paw was raised to scrape her arm. 
 
 "And now, Baby," said the girl presently, "having 
 got rid of all my bad thoughts, let us go and do 
 something. It is dreadfully bad to do nothing when 
 you feel sad. The house is lonely, so let's go into the 
 garden and find something to do." 
 
 Trixie acquiesced with a stiff jump and a husky 
 bark, and the two wandered out and round the cottage. 
 
 "What a lot of good the rain has done, Trixie," 
 said Esther. " Yesterday the earth was hard ; every- 
 thing looks so pleased." 
 
 They paused before a line of gooseberry and currant 
 bushes, Esther slowly picking up and eating some of 
 the fruit that had been knocked off. 
 
 " Some of these are too close together, Baby, dear," 
 she said thoughtfully, " and too old. Look, that one 
 had no gooseberries on this year, I don't think it had 
 any last year either ; it is really dead wood. I've 
 been waiting to see if it was any use. I shall just 
 fetch the fork and dig it up, and then the others will 
 have more room ; besides, I can get at them more 
 easily." 
 
 Trixie sat down on the cinder path by the side of 
 the bush and watched the proceedings with interest. 
 The gooseberry tree was old, and the roots were deep. 
 Esther pushed in the fork and prized it up, after 
 several strong efforts. Then she took hold of the 
 stem with her hands and pulled, shaking the loosening 
 earth from the roots. 
 
 Trixie got up and came round, looking eagerly into 
 the hole, as though he expected the performance was 
 a game for his especial benefit. 
 
234 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Up came the last root with a jerk, and Esther stood 
 flushed and laughing with the big old bush in her 
 two hands. Trixie was smelling in the hole, his ears 
 pricked forward and his tail wagging. 
 
 " What is it, boy, what is it ? " said Esther laughing. 
 " Find it, Trixie." 
 
 And Trixie really appeared to expect to " find it," 
 for he scraped busily with both fore-paws in the hole, 
 with little anxious whines, and ears pricked forward. 
 
 Esther was amused, then interested. She tried to 
 induce the dog to leave the hole, but he only scratched 
 the faster, pushing his grey nose into the damp earth 
 again and again, to withdraw it sneezing and shaking 
 off the mould. 
 
 Seeing that he evidently intended to persist, Esther 
 stuck the fork down into the place where Trixie 
 seemed so eager to investigate, and putting her foot 
 on it, drove it in as deeply as she could. The prongs 
 met with resistance — not the resistance of hard 
 earth, nor the jar of contact with a stone, but the 
 resistance of something tough, and yet elastic. 
 > After a minute or two of vigorous pushing Esther 
 desisted hot and panting. While the old dog, who 
 had paused to watch her, threw himself upon the 
 place with renewed excitement, scraping away the 
 mould with pattering paws. 
 
 Something appeared ; Esther stooped and touched 
 it. A bit of tough oilskin, such as seamen's coats 
 are made of — very dull, cracked, and shabby, but 
 still tough and strong. 
 
 " Dear me, Baby," said the girl, pushing her hair off 
 her forehead, " what a fuss about a bit of rubbish." 
 
 But Trixie evidently thought the rubbish interesting, 
 for he sniffed it eagerly, tried to pull at it, and finding 
 the want of teeth a serious difficulty, began scratching 
 again, with little snorts of excitement. 
 
 "Really, Trixie," said Esther laughing, "I shall begin 
 to think you are in your second childhood ! Now 
 
Tnxie . . . sniffed it eagerly. [page 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 235 
 
 you'll make yourself quite ill directly, and then what 
 should I say to mother ? Here, get out of the way 
 this moment, you fierce beast, and let me get it out, 
 whatever it is." 
 
 Trixie stood aside, or rather sat aside ; for his 
 exertions had been so great that he sat down on one 
 hip, as it were, with his mouth open, and smiled at 
 Esther gaspingly. 
 
 For quite five minutes the girl dug, and pulled, 
 lifted, and shovelled aside earth ; at the end of that 
 time she dropped her fork, and dragged clear of the 
 hole a big bundle that had been buried deeply and 
 securely behind the line of old gooseberry bushes, 
 not actually underneath them. 
 
 It appeared to be a seaman's oilskin coat ; very 
 old and worn, and considerably marred in appearance 
 by its sojourn underground. Esther was surprised at 
 the weight of it, but she put that down to the 
 wet. 
 
 " Well, Baby, dear," she said, holding the bundle 
 a little way from her clean dress, and making a face 
 of distaste at the eager dog, " and now we've got it 
 what shall we do with it ? Perhaps it's good enough 
 for dear dad to wear if we clean it, though it can't 
 be worth much or old Uncle Tewkesbury would not 
 have buried it. I can't take it into my nice clean 
 kitchen with all the cracks full of wet earth, and, 
 perhaps — worms ! Trixie, we must shake it out 
 here," and she began to pull at the rotten string 
 which was wound once or twice round the bundle. 
 
 This came away easily enough, and the stiff oilskin 
 began to open out, as it were, in her hands, Esther 
 unpeeled it, for it was all sticking together, and it 
 began to assume the semblance of a coat. 
 
 She shook it once or twice, holding it the length 
 of her arms from her dress ; a bit of the front and a 
 button tore away in her hands, it seemed so heavy 
 and yet it was unlined. Suddenly Esther's eye was 
 
236 'THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 caught by something bright and glistening at her 
 feet. 
 
 The thought flashed through her mind, " What a 
 bright button ! " and she stooped to pick it up. In 
 her fingers lay a sovereign. 
 
 She turned it over and over ; surprised and 
 delighted, but, unreasoning, letting the coat drop at 
 her feet. Her face was flushed with pleasure at the 
 find, but where could it have come from ? 
 
 Still holding the precious bit of gold she stooped 
 to pick up the coat again, and in so doing grasped 
 it by the sleeve. 
 
 Under her fingers was something hard and heavy, 
 the sleeve was not empty. She lifted the coat care- 
 fully, her breath catching in her throat, and felt down 
 the sleeve. It appeared to be a sort of bag, for it 
 was firmly sewn up at the cuffs, and again at the 
 arm-hole; and in it was something hard, heavy, and 
 movable. Esther put her hand up to her throat, for 
 her breath seemed to choke her, and stood motionless 
 for a minute, staring round at the garden, the cottage, 
 the quiet sky. 
 
 What was coming ! She hardly dare think. Then 
 rolling up the coat in her arms she ran towards the 
 house, closely followed by Trixie, who appeared to 
 regard the garment as his own especial interest ; shut 
 the door after her, threw the coat on the table, and 
 stood gazing at it. The heavy thump as it fell 
 brought her heart into her mouth (metaphorically 
 speaking) ; it was such evidence of the presence of a 
 real something. 
 
 With recovered calmness she found her scissors 
 and cut some of the threads at the arm-hole, then 
 she put in her hand and felt coins. She drew them out 
 to the light and looked. Sovereigns, half-sovereigns, 
 and a florin ! Esther put them back into the sleeve 
 and stood motionless, trembling, white as the flutter- 
 ing curtains at the window. 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 237 
 
 Then she went outside, shut the door behind her, 
 and stood leaning against the side of the porch 
 waiting ; her face quivering, and tears shining on 
 her lashes, while she looked into the serene blue 
 above, from which she seemed to fancy eyes of divine 
 compassion were watching to see the joy and feel it 
 with her. 
 
 Presently Michael came, shutting the gate, and 
 looking along the little path at Esther standing by 
 the door, with a smile in the sad eyes that had lately 
 become so patient and steadfast. He was a little 
 tired and his weaker foot dragged slightly. 
 
 As he came up to the door Esther suddenly sprang 
 towards him and seized him by the arms. 
 
 " Dad, dad," she cried in a choked voice, " some- 
 thing has happened — wonderful, I think — but I daren't 
 look till you came." 
 
 The colour left Carne's face, and his eyes sought 
 hers with desperate inquiry. 
 
 Esther opened the door and stepped back into the 
 kitchen, pulling him with her. Then she locked it 
 behind them. 
 
 Michael stood and looked round, his eye full on 
 the heap on the table, and for one second a wild idea 
 leapt to his brain that somehow the battered heap 
 of oilskin was connected with Stephen Weld, but 
 before he could speak Esther began her explanation. 
 
 Hurried, disjointed ; it had to be repeated once or 
 twice before he grasped the sense. 
 
 ■ Buried behind the row of gooseberry trees. And 
 you came on it through pulling up the old one in 
 the end nearest the hedge, because it didn't bear and 
 was squeezing the others ; and found it was heavy, 
 and a sovereign dropped out, and there's more in the 
 sleeve." He echoed it all after her, realizing slowly 
 that it meant — what ? 
 
 " Empty the sleeve, dad," whispered Esther, almost 
 too excited to speak out loud. 
 
238 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Carne took the coat gingerly. 
 
 " How shall I do it ? " he said. 
 
 Then for the first time Esther laughed. 
 
 " Darling dad, we're both quite silly ! Just tear the 
 threads at the cuff; see, they are weak, the money 
 is squeezing through. The one that fell out in the 
 garden came out that way when I shook it. You 
 hold the coat, and I'll hold my apron — they'd roll off 
 the table." 
 
 Carne did as she suggested. A stream of coins 
 poured into Esther's apron, and with them fell out a 
 dirty envelope. Michael picked it up, and read the 
 address on the outside, written in a cramped illiterate 
 hand. 
 
 " Mister Michael Carne or his daughter ', 
 my great niece" 
 
 " It's for us," said Michael, looking at Esther, and 
 holding the envelope with a hand that shook. 
 
 "Open it," said the girl, with smiling eyes, "there 
 will be a letter, perhaps." 
 
 Her father tore the envelope, and drew out a sheet 
 of very cheap note-paper, folded several times. This 
 he spread out and read. 
 
 "Dear Nephew and Great Niece, 
 
 " If you take proper care of my garden you will 
 find what I put away. If you can't look after a 
 garden you don't deserve to find it. I had it put 
 in my last Will and Testament that if you look after 
 my garden it will be to your advantage. This is 
 what I mean by the words. There ought to be 
 ^"137 1 5 s. I wish I could live long enough to make 
 up .£150; but it's taken me near on thirty years to 
 scrape this together, besides a living. Don't waste 
 it or let your daughter. 
 
 " Your affec. uncle, 
 
 " Michael Tewkesbury." 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 239 
 
 Father and daughter looked at each other. 
 
 " Dad," said Esther, " God didn't forget us." 
 
 Michael's face quivered as his hands fingered the 
 sheet of paper. 
 
 " I don't deserve it," he said in a low voice, " I was 
 an unbelieving man." 
 
 " Not unbelieving now," said the girl lovingly. 
 
 " God forbid," answered Michael quickly. 
 
 There was a silence while you might hear the 
 clock ticking, and the two stood motionless looking 
 at the heap of shining coin in Esther's apron, of which 
 she held up the two corners. The pause was broken 
 by a long whining yawn from Trixie, who had been 
 sitting near with pricked ears and eager eye, waiting 
 the issue of these strange doings. Esther began to 
 laugh. 
 
 " It was Trixie really found it," said Esther, and 
 she told the discovery in detail, while Michael listened 
 to every word, and Baby fell asleep, for the circum- 
 stances were becoming wearisome to his mind. 
 
 The close of the recital was interrupted by a tap at 
 the door. 
 
 " Come in," said Esther, rising. 
 
 The latch was tried, and then Mrs. Fearey's voice 
 called out — 
 
 " The door's locked. I've come after my baby, is 
 he here ? " 
 
 Before Esther could reply, Trixie beset the door 
 with cries and barks, scratchings and squealings. 
 
 "All right, all right, dearie boy," cried Mrs. Fearey's 
 voice above the tumult. " Here's mother, don't you 
 take on so, or you'll upset yourself for days." 
 
 Esther unlocked the door, and the old sheep-dog 
 seized upon Mrs. Fearey's apron, dragging it to and 
 fro, and jumping stiffly, while she adjured him to 
 mind his manners and not behave " silly-like." 
 
 When peace was restored, Esther seized on her in 
 turn, and the whole story had to be told again. The 
 
240 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 coat was thrust into Mrs. Fearey's arms, she was led 
 to the table, and Baby's part in the discovery was 
 dwelt upon with proud insistence by the girl. 
 
 " It was the coat," said Mrs. Fearey solemnly. 
 " The old man wore that coat year in year out when 
 he got well on in years. He used to come up to my 
 place in it ; and Baby knew it, as well as could be. 
 I used to come down here to look him up time and 
 again when he was stiff with rheumatics, and he'd be 
 sitting by a scrap of fire in that very coat. ' Why 
 don't you have a good warm dressing-gown, Mr. 
 Tewkesbury ? ' I'd say. ' It'd be more easy for you.' 
 ' No thank you, Emma Fearey,' he'd say, ' dressing- 
 gowns cost money, this coat will serve my time,' he'd 
 say. Baby used to go up and sniff round him, and he'd 
 pat the dog, but he'd never give him so much as a 
 bit of sugar. I remember thinking the day he was 
 found dead wherever the old coat had got to. He 
 must have buried it in that last illness of his. Got 
 out of his very bed to go and do it, I shouldn't be 
 surprised, and quite near his death too, poor man. I 
 remember he got another chill, and went off quite 
 sudden at the last." 
 
 Michael and Esther listened eagerly to all she could 
 tell them. The curious habits and lonely ways of the 
 old uncle being now vested with a new and wonderful 
 interest. Mrs. Fearey regarded the little piles of money 
 with pleasure and almost awe, but there was no 
 trace of covetousness in her expression. 
 
 " And now," she said, with almost a twinkle of mis- 
 chief, " I suppose you don't know what to do with it all ? " 
 
 Michael put his hands in his pockets and smiled ; 
 a serene smile of possession, as he glanced round the 
 little room. 
 
 " I'm off to Rockhampton to-morrow," he said. 
 
 " Oh, dad, can I come too ? " cried Esther. 
 
 " No, of course not," said Michael, moved to 
 pleasantry in the sunshine of the wonderful relief. 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 241 
 
 " Not after I've dug up all your money for you ? " 
 said Esther, and they both laughed. 
 
 So next morning it came to pass that they were 
 up with the sun, and caught the early train at the 
 little wayside station a mile and a half distant, 
 arriving in Rockhampton too early to visit Messrs. 
 Norman and Piatt. 
 
 They took the coat, the letter, and the money in 
 a strong bag Esther had made, which was in turn 
 bestowed in a leather handbag which had belonged to 
 Michael's wife and descended to Esther. 
 
 Mr. Norman received the tale of the buried legacy 
 with exactly the same pleasant indifference that he 
 received all communications. He said, " I must con- 
 gratulate you a second time, Mr. Carne, this is really 
 most opportune," and Michael was far too placidly 
 happy to reproach him for the former transac- 
 tions, even had he dared to tackle such a mighty 
 man. 
 
 The mortgage was paid off, with interest due and 
 legal expenses. Michael asked twice over if there 
 were anything more owing in any direction, with a 
 nervous fear that some hidden trap might yet be 
 sprung upon him. 
 
 Esther sat by and looked from one to another with 
 her intelligent face bright with interest. The lawyer 
 found himself glancing at her with pleasure, and glad 
 beyond his habit to see the happiness and relief in her 
 sweet face. 
 
 They went out free. 
 
 The sun was hot, and the long high street that 
 steeply sloped to the crowded harbour was bathed in 
 light and life. Michael was very silent ; and when 
 Esther, who had been gazing away and away at the 
 jostle of masts and sails showing in the dip of the 
 steep vista, glanced at him, she saw a tear creeping 
 down his cheek, hastily brushed away, while a sigh 
 from the depths of his heart seemed to lift the weight 
 
 Q 
 
242 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 that had been crushing the life of its beats for so 
 many weary months. 
 
 They wandered about the sunny old town too 
 happy to talk. Smiling at each other when their 
 eyes met ; and finally sitting down to dinner in the 
 old established inn as joyous as two children on a 
 holiday. After a rest they went out again to look at the 
 shops. 
 
 " Do you remember last time, dad ? " said Esther. 
 " The curtains, and all the things." 
 
 " What do you want this time, lass ? " said Michael 
 placidly. " It's your own to spend." 
 
 Esther wanted several things, but more for others 
 than herself. Mrs. Fearey and the two old widows 
 held the first place in her mind for necessities. And 
 so many were the parcels that they were finally 
 relegated to come out by the Saturday carrier next 
 day, except a few things that Esther could not part 
 with. 
 
 As long as she lived she never forgot the tea that 
 followed, and the evening journey home. The walk 
 out at sunset along the quiet road growing dusky 
 with the long shadows of evening. There was a 
 little stop to be made at the two cottages, when 
 Esther unburdened herself of most of her parcels. 
 And then they went on home. Passing through the 
 little gate they stopped with one accord and looked 
 at the cottage. 
 
 The sun dipping behind the cliff to the westward 
 had left the valley in shade, and only touched the 
 chimney and yellow thatch with a last lingering finger. 
 
 Birds were asleep, and no sound broke the stillness 
 but a sleepy tweet-tweet from the eaves, and the soft 
 swish of the distant sea. The village seemed a long 
 way off with its faint echoes of voices and laughter. 
 
 Esther took hold of her father's hand and gave it a 
 little squeeze, and together they walked slowly up the 
 path. 
 
ESTHER AND TRIXIE 243 
 
 The following morning Mr. Emmett opened his 
 letters as usual, without a thought of schemes frus- 
 trated. 
 
 His mind had been at peace since he destroyed 
 Stephen Weld's letter, because he thought matters 
 would shape themselves to his will as usual. Stephen 
 thought Esther was married, and would not hurry 
 home ; nor would he be likely to write again ; 
 certainly not before the expiration of the fatal year. 
 
 The miller had the greatest faith in the power of 
 the thumb-screw he wielded. He could not believe 
 that any one would really submit to lose solid 
 property for such a ridiculous chimera as faith to a 
 dead love ! Therefore had he answered Carne's 
 request with such uncompromising decision. He 
 wanted to force them to realize the hopelessness of 
 their position. Esther would change her mind surely 
 at the last, and he would get what he wanted — as he 
 had always done before. 
 
 The sight of the solicitor's handwriting was no 
 surprise, as they were in constant correspondence. 
 He opened the letter with indifference, and ran his 
 eye over it. Then he uttered a furious exclamation, 
 and pushed the table from him, upsetting his tea and 
 making the china clatter. 
 
 His face flushed a dull crimson from brow to chin, 
 and the veins in his forehead swelled and throbbed, 
 after his manner when very angry. He took up the 
 sheet again and read it through a second time, his 
 hand shaking, and eyes appearing more prominent 
 and bloodshot. 
 
 The mortgage paid off, with all interest, and 
 every expense attaching ? 
 
 The cottage out of his power ! Esther out of his 
 power ! His desire thwarted ; his long cherished 
 plan for getting old Tewkesbury's corner rendered 
 void ! His will set at nought by these two people ! 
 
 His mind leaped forward also, and saw the future. 
 
244 
 
 He had stopped Stephen's letter to no purpose ; he 
 could not stop Stephen's return. He would come 
 back now and marry Esther. Joshua Emmett got up 
 from his chair and paced the room in as furious a 
 passion as he had ever indulged in perhaps during 
 the whole course of his life. Impotent fury ; the 
 more violent as he knew it was impotent. The blind 
 passionate rage of a dull-tempered tyrannical nature, 
 accustomed to do its own will in all things. If 
 Michael and his daughter had wished to punish him — 
 which they did not — they could not have devised a 
 keener torment than the miller experienced at that 
 moment. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 
 
 jFTER that the long summer days passed 
 uneventfully, a lifetime of anxiety, dread, 
 suffering, and relief seemed to have been 
 crowded into that last month. Michael 
 and Esther did not realize until the 
 strain was removed what the effort had been. Carne 
 altered in the month that followed surprisingly to a 
 close observer. There was about him a certain 
 dignity and assurance. The wistful melancholy in 
 his expression, with the tendency to discontent and 
 repining, had given place to a direct glance, and 
 thoughtful placidity which added immensely to the 
 power of his face. 
 
 It was as though he had all his life been trying to 
 guess a difficult riddle, putting to it utterly inadequate 
 answers ; and now the answer had been revealed, 
 bringing with it a revelation of all troubling problems, 
 and giving peace where there had been no peace. 
 
 For Esther the difficulty and struggle were by no 
 means over. 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 245 
 
 What was the autumn of life for Michael was to 
 her the spring, and it is harder for a young life to 
 surrender all its dreams of pure physical happiness, 
 than for one far more advanced. The longer life has 
 probably experienced the things that young ones hope 
 for, and realized exactly what amount of true happi- 
 ness they can bring ; or, having had the happiness and 
 surrendered it for a time, is willing to wait in peace 
 and hope for the gathering up of the thread again in 
 the light of perfect life beyond. The dread and 
 excitement had been active factors in helping Esther's 
 resolution. But, when it was all over, when the 
 novelty of the relief even had worn off, her trial was 
 hardest ; the facing of peaceful, uneventful, everyday 
 life without Stephen. 
 
 And even under this strain she did not fail. She 
 made interests. She worked hard. She lived only in 
 the lives of others ; never losing her bright spirits ; 
 regarding as selfishness the least return of despondent 
 brooding. The two old widows looked to her as 
 sunshine ; and Mrs. Fearey loved her with a whole- 
 hearted and devoted love. She was a gift of God 
 truly to three lonely ones. 
 
 And they were not the only souls whose path was 
 made happier by Esther's love of God. 
 
 When the measles attacked the Kentfield family 
 she was an active assistant ; nursing Lily on her knee 
 for hours at a time, when that little person resembled 
 nothing so much as a boiled lobster, and reading 
 patiently to young Reube and his brothers, who 
 could be kept in bed by no other influence. When 
 the baby caught a cold after it, and died of pneumonia, 
 Esther was the only person who could restrain poor 
 Mrs. Kentfield's violent grief. Mrs. Saunders 5 sug- 
 gestion that when all was said and done seven children 
 were better than eight, being rejected with furious 
 indignation by the woman who whatever her faults 
 was a most loving mother. Esther had really loved 
 
246 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 the baby, and to her Mrs. Kentfield clung with 
 persistent trust. 
 
 The girl's name became associated gradually with 
 comfort and relief. 
 
 Summer days faded into autumn. September 
 gales battered on the cliffs, and the wind cried down 
 the valley, driving the drying leaves into the ditches, 
 and sending bits of broken dead wood drifting along 
 before it. The country roads lost their cosy sheltered 
 appearance, and seemed lonely. The sea was grey, 
 and the deep hum of the " bunny," brought back to 
 Esther's mind, with a sickening pang, those three 
 days before the great gale, when the warning roar had 
 echoed along the coast. 
 
 The circumstances of Stephen's death returned to 
 her, with the vivid memory that is one of the greatest 
 of the sufferings in loss by death. The constant tor- 
 ment of "if" racked her. If she had only told him. 
 If she had only been definite about the miller ! If his 
 journey could have been delayed not one day, but 
 twelve hours, the boat would never have put out, or 
 would have gone without him ! The weary round of 
 torturing fancy weakened and strained her physically, 
 till her eyes looked unnaturally large, and the piti- 
 ful droop returned to the sweet mouth. 
 
 " The child's growing thin," said Mrs. Fearey 
 anxiously to Trixie ; " she's fretting for the dear lad." 
 
 " I must take my girl away somehow for a bit of a 
 change," thought Michael; " she's got her mother's look." 
 
 The village began to be sad about Esther, and said 
 she was " not long for this world." They decided that 
 her exceeding gentleness and patience was a kind of 
 death-warrant, and she was watched and considered 
 with pity mingled with awe. Towards the middle of 
 October there came a spell of still, glorious weather ; 
 an " Indian " summer, in which the autumn tints 
 blazed with colour, just before the leaves fell. The 
 wind seemed to hold its hand back for the very 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 247 
 
 beauty of the sight, and the sun set day after day on 
 still, sleeping cliffs, bathed in rosy light, and still 
 rocking, molten sea creeping up the sands as though 
 afraid to disturb the stillness by making itself heard. 
 
 A longing to look at the Rocky Cove came upon 
 Esther one day, and she thought that she would go 
 and see the sunset, once, before the calm broke, and 
 get strength to go on bravely through the days to come. 
 
 She meant to go before tea, but it so happened 
 that duties interfered, and she did not start till six 
 o'clock, when the autumn day was fast closing in. " It 
 doesn't matter," she thought, " the moon's full ; I shall 
 see it rise over Black Rock Head." 
 
 " Don't you be late, my girl ! " said Carne anxiously ; 
 " you're not looking over well to-night ! " 
 
 " I am well, dear dad ! " said Esther ; " I want a walk. 
 I feel as if I couldn't breathe indoors, it's so still ! " 
 
 " I'm going down to the boat for a bit, but don't 
 you be late, or I'll come to the cove and fetch you ! " 
 
 Esther kissed him, and laughed reassuringly. 
 
 Passing the two cottages, she saw Mrs. Fearey sit- 
 ting at her door knitting. 
 
 " I'm off for a walk," said Esther from the gate, 
 " to drive the cobwebs out of my head." 
 
 " I wish you'd take my baby," cried Mrs. Fearey, 
 looking over her spectacles. " He's growing so lazy, 
 it's quite a sin. Here, Trixie, go with Esther." 
 
 Trixie rose with a look of expostulation. 
 
 " Oh, come now, you're not so old as all that," said 
 Mrs. Fearey. " Run along." 
 
 Trixie walked down the path, as who should say, 
 " You seem to forget that running is for young dogs," 
 but he quickened his pace as Esther opened the gate, 
 and went off with her in a forgiving spirit. 
 
 Esther did not want to hurry, and they wandered 
 on over the rough ground till the cliff above the cove 
 was reached. There she sat down on the edge, and 
 looked out to sea. 
 
248 'THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 As far as she could see, out and out, a smooth 
 sleeping plain, greyish-mauve, with the memory of 
 sunset tints, and not yet under the sway of the moon, 
 which hung in the clear sky, waiting to reign in all 
 her majesty. The water crept to the foot of the cliffs 
 with a rythmic " hush," drawing back each time with 
 a little murmur that followed on all down the line till 
 it was lost in the distance. Far away the bark of a 
 dog, or a faint echo of distant laughter came up on 
 the soft air from the land, and was carried out to the 
 fishing-boats that drifted with the swell. 
 
 " No stir in the air ; no stir in the sea," came into 
 the girl's mind as she sat brooding over the vision at 
 her feet. 
 
 The dog sat down on her dress, and pressing against 
 her seemed to be asleep. 
 
 Minutes passed, and Esther sat buried in deepest 
 thought, unconscious of the flight of time. Only by 
 her face might you tell that her thoughts were prayers, 
 and the great longing and loneliness of her heart was 
 searching, not in vain, for a strong Rest that it might 
 find courage for the work to come. 
 
 The moon grew in strength that washed the cliffs 
 in silver, and a road of shining light lay lightly on 
 the water, making the restless movement of the sea 
 visible, and the hulls of the boats that crossed it look 
 as though they were painted on it in Indian ink. 
 
 All sound from the land had ceased, when on the 
 silence broke the faint tramp of a far, far distant foot- 
 fall. Coming up to the cove from the Rockhampton 
 side, with a quick, regular step it marked itself on the 
 intense silence. 
 
 Esther listened perforce. 
 
 "A coastguard," she thought uninterested. "Fancy 
 hearing him all that distance off! it must be still ; 
 one seems to hear the silence." And she settled 
 down again to her quiet watching. 
 
 The distant footstep sounded louder, and the on- 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 249 
 
 comer began to whistle a scrap of tune. Esther felt 
 the dog's body against her side become suddenly 
 tense. A tremble passed over his old limbs, and he 
 raised his grey head to listen. Esther laid a reassuring 
 hand on his coat, and stroked him gently. 
 
 " Nothing, Baby, dear, but the coastguard." 
 
 Trixie wagged his tail and replied to her with a little 
 whine, but he did not cease listening for one second. 
 
 The coming step approached the broken slope on 
 the other side of the cove, and the whistling ceased, 
 giving place to a scrambling run and a jump or two 
 that led to the sands at the bottom. 
 
 Trixie raised himself stiffly in spite of Esther's 
 detaining arm, he shivered and trembled through 
 every rigid limb, a stifled gruff bark at the back of his 
 throat broken every now and then by a crying whine. 
 
 "Baby, you're silly," said Esther, whispering and 
 coaxing. " It's only the coastguard." 
 
 But the. dog took no notice of her ; the step was 
 now stumbling up the rocky path from the cove, 
 and the dog struggled to get away from her. 
 Against her will and reason a strange excitement 
 took possession of the girl. 
 
 The memory of another night rushed into her mind 
 when Stephen had come up out of the cove to meet 
 with her on the top, just where she stood now, and 
 they had walked home talking of the miller. Wonder 
 at herself, as she was then, flashed through Esther's 
 mind ; wonder at her own miserable blindness that 
 played with foolish things of tinsel glitter and let the 
 treasure pass unnoticed. Her heart beat fast with 
 the vivid memory. 
 
 She got up from her seat on the ground, and in 
 so doing loosed her hold of Trixie who raced wildly 
 off, stumbling, jumping, scrambling, squeaking, whin- 
 ing, and barking. The still night was positively torn 
 and shattered by the sudden burst of noise. 
 
 Esther felt annoyance, the memory was jarred and 
 
250 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 the dream broken. Life and its reality hurt her 
 again with a sharp pain. It was long, long ago that 
 Steve had come up out of the cove, now Steve was 
 dead, and her life was to be but a waiting-time till 
 the time came to follow. 
 
 The man and the dog had met. Esther heard a 
 deep voice speak, but the noise and fuss the dog 
 made drowned its tone, and she only thought it must 
 be some one Trixie knew well. Up they came, the 
 man moving quicker, and she strolled a step or two 
 towards the head of the path and waited, the brilliant 
 moonlight shining on her and lighting every feature, 
 almost every eyelash. 
 
 A man sprang up the last steep bit, out of the 
 shadow on to the cliff. He carried a small bundle, 
 and the dog followed closely at his heels. It was not 
 the figure of any Durlmouth man now living ; the 
 great height, breadth, and carriage of head recalled 
 with a sudden shock of pitiful remembrance, one man, 
 only one man, for there had been no other like him. 
 
 A few yards divided them ; he, with his back to 
 the light, motionless ; she with the moon bathing her 
 plaintive face and deep eyes, gazing — gazing — motion- 
 less also. 
 
 It was not possible ! The days of miracles were 
 gone, and dead men no longer returned, given back 
 from the grave to the women who loved them. 
 
 "Esther-^ you J" 
 
 He suddenly broke the silence, and his tone was 
 almost one of awe, because this was not the same 
 Esther he had left. This most beautiful woman, 
 whose face was stamped with the pathos of deep grief 
 and long patience ; whose soft deep eyes searched 
 him with such terrible agony of question. At the 
 sound of his voice she gave a choked cry, raised both 
 her hands towards him, and dropped them again. 
 
 Stephen's eyes quickly glanced at the slim left hand 
 so white in the moonlight. 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 25 1 
 
 There was no wedding-ring on it. 
 
 He made a forward step. His heart beat so loud 
 that he could hear it himself; Esther might have 
 heard it in the stillness, it made his voice husky. 
 
 " Esther ! — won't you speak — to me, now ? " 
 
 She put out her hand, like one in a dream, and laid 
 it on his breast. 
 
 The touch awoke her ; the labouring heart beneath 
 her hand was living, human in its wild beats. Neither 
 knew which moved first ; it was the impulse of one 
 heart that stirred both. In a moment she was 
 wrapped in his arms, close to the heart that had beat 
 for her so long and so bravely, alone. 
 
 "Steve — Steve — Steve!" — only his name, murmured 
 again and again, with a soft breathless wonder. 
 
 "Didn't you think I should come then, sweet?" he 
 whispered, with his cheek against her hair. 
 
 A slim hand stole up to his face, and touched him 
 gently, with trembling finger-tips. 
 
 " How could I ? — I saw you — drown." She clung 
 closer to him with a shudder. 
 
 Stephen laughed, a little short, joyous laugh with a 
 sob in it. 
 
 u You never did — darling, — you thought you did. 
 But the letter told all about it. Didn't aunt show 
 you the letter ? " 
 
 Esther paused to collect her thoughts, then she 
 lifted her head and looked up into his face. 
 
 " There — there was no letter." 
 
 " No letter ! I sent one from Vancouver in May. 
 Didn't aunt get a money-order ? " 
 
 * She got nothing. No letter, nothing. We thought 
 you were dead — all the time." 
 
 Stephen was disturbed ; but the lovely face looking 
 up so close, in its shy amaze and almost fearful 
 happiness swept away all other thoughts, and he bent 
 his head. 
 
 " Darling — mine ! " 
 
252 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 Esther passed her hand round the back of his neck, 
 and drawing his head down, kissed his lips, with a 
 gentle dignity that brought a sob to his throat. 
 
 Minutes passed and they did not speak, only the 
 language that needs no words passed between them, 
 healing all the bitter scars, telling the story of the 
 long loneliness ; and, in the telling bringing with it a 
 unity of soul that is only known to the few who have 
 met real love face to face and know it for what it is. 
 
 " But, sweetheart," said Stephen presently. " Then 
 just now you thought me dead." 
 
 Esther looked at him dreamily. 
 
 " I didn't — think. You were in my heart — and I 
 saw you. I didn't know if it was a dream. I was 
 afraid to wake." 
 
 " I was in your heart," said Stephen. " / in your 
 heart." In his tone there was something of awe. The 
 thought was too great to grasp lightly. 
 
 "Always in my heart," said Esther earnestly, — " ever 
 since — since I knew I'd — lost you." 
 
 And as she looked up into the strong brown face, 
 and answered the steadfast grey eyes that had been 
 to her but an agonized memory, the realization of it 
 all swept into her soul, overwhelming her with a 
 passion of tears. 
 
 Clinging to him she called his name, under her 
 breath, again and again ; holding him with a nervous 
 grasp that seemed to find relief only in the very 
 texture of his clothing. 
 
 Stephen soothed her with loving whispers ; strok- 
 ing her hair ; holding her hands ; telling her to look 
 up and be comforted, with a sense of thankful joy that 
 possessed her to the depth of her being. 
 
 By bits and scraps all the story was pieced together. 
 The difficulty was, at first, to realize that Stephen 
 thought they knew he was alive ; and Esther told 
 hers from the other standpoint. He did not ask her 
 for any details of the breaking off of the miller's 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 253 
 
 courtship. What she said was enough. That she had 
 loved him without knowing it ; and at the last hoped 
 he would speak, realizing, when he was gone, that she 
 must be his only, and always. 
 
 " And you'd have kept to me, you say you'd have 
 kept to me — if it had been as you thought ? " said 
 Stephen, his voice trembling. 
 
 " I couldn't have helped it," said Esther, with her 
 head on his breast, and her deep eyes shining with a 
 great contentment. 
 
 Stephen held her close, but he could find no words 
 to tell his heart in answer. 
 
 Presently Esther said, smiling — 
 
 "Do you know I'm very selfish. Think of me 
 keeping you here, and little auntie sitting at home not 
 knowing, let alone dad thinking I'm lost. Look at 
 Trixie ; he's quite silly with joy." 
 
 The old dog had been sitting patiently watching 
 them, his mouth a little open ; every now and then 
 a whine of pleasure expressing his feelings. They 
 turned homewards, laughing happily, and holding 
 hands like two children, while Trixie crowded in 
 between, and they both stumbled over him at intervals. 
 
 As they entered the road they heard a quick step 
 coming along the hedges. The dog barked. 
 
 " Esther, is that you ? " called out Michael's voice. 
 " Do you know what time it is ? " 
 
 Esther left Stephen's side and ran on. 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Carne, as he saw her face. 
 
 " Oh, dad ! " She stopped in front of him, and her 
 words came unconnected, hesitating. " Think of the 
 most wonderful miracle that could be. I don't know 
 how to tell it — but it's true — not a dream — I'm not 
 crazy — listen ! " and she held up her hand. 
 
 Michael stared at her, and listened. A quick step 
 was coming up the road behind her. 
 
 " It's true — it is — dad, it's his step ; he was never 
 drowned." 
 
254 'THE BROWN BIRD' 
 
 " Merciful God ! " said Michael in a startled voice. 
 He said no more, but he took off his cap, and stood 
 gazing at the coming figure. 
 
 " The thing is, how to break this to your aunt," said 
 Carne presently, as the three turned homewards. 
 "We mustn't be sudden with her, lad, she's had so 
 much to bear." 
 
 " What a pity Trixie can't speak ! " said Esther. 
 " He can do everything but speak." 
 
 After all, Trixie became the chief agent in the 
 matter. As the three approached the cottages, Trixie 
 decided that a second burst of triumph was essential, 
 and gathering himself together he set off home at a 
 scrambling pace, forced the gate open, rushed up the 
 path and fell upon Mrs. Fearey, who was standing at 
 the open door listening for Esther, with a frenzied 
 demonstration. He shrieked and whined, barked and 
 squealed, dragging at her apron, shaking it violently to 
 and fro, and entangling himself recklessly in her skirts. 
 
 " Bless the dog, what is it ? " said the little woman, 
 stooping to soothe him. " What is it you want to tell 
 mother, Baby ? " 
 
 As she stroked his head he ceased to make a noise, 
 but gazed into her eyes with intensity of meaning and 
 a dumb language. 
 
 Footsteps were at the gate. And Mrs. Fearey 
 heard a voice, a whispered colloquy, answered in a 
 low, deep tone. Crouching on the dog she stared into 
 the gloom. More than two figures, and one very tall ! 
 
 She raised herself up and called aloud in a quavering 
 tone. 
 
 " My lad, my lad, it's you come back," and fell in a 
 little heap on the top of Trixie. 
 
 It was the first and only time that Mrs. Fearey ever 
 fainted ; she looked upon it with shame afterwards as 
 an unpardonable weakness. Half-an-hour afterwards 
 she was trotting about the house getting Stephen's 
 bedroom ready, with tears running down her cheeks. 
 
A SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS COMING 255 
 
 Trixie was in everybody's way, especially Mrs. 
 Fearey, who fell over him with her arms full of bed- 
 clothes, exclaiming — 
 
 "Bless the dog, where'll he be coming to next?" 
 with unimpaired good temper and delight. 
 
 Stephen went down to The Corner with Michael ; 
 and Esther sat listening, as cheer after cheer rang 
 out on the still night air — for the news spread, and 
 men got out of bed and rushed down to shake his 
 hand and welcome him back to Durlmouth. 
 
 The children heard it and shouted in their beds ; 
 the women heard it and wiped their eyes, crying and 
 laughing together over the story of true love. Mr. 
 Newman heard it on the high cliff, and insisted on 
 going off with his wife to see what was doing, and if 
 the wonderful rumour brought by breathless Dave 
 was really a fact. 
 
 " I suppose we shall have a wedding soon ? " said 
 Mrs. Newman, all smiles. 
 
 " To-morrow, if I had my way," answered Stephen, 
 and a roar of shouts went up. 
 
 Walking back home with Michael as soon as he 
 could tear himself away, Stephen suddenly stopped 
 in the road as a thought flashed into his mind. 
 
 " About the trouble — the money part, Mr. Carne ; 
 you'll trust me to pay it all off. At any rate, you'll 
 let me help, now you've given me the right." 
 
 Michael answered with a little happy laugh — 
 
 " Thanks to the mercy of God, Steve, we've been 
 saved and free from fear this long while." He paused 
 at Stephen's exclamation, and then added — "But 
 didn't Esther tell you ? " 
 
 "We'd no time to talk about money," said Stephen. 
 
 "No time!" echoed Michael. " No time — bless your 
 hearts, what a thing it is to be in love ! " 
 
 Then he told the story of the buried coat, of 
 Esther's and Trixie's discovery, and what it had 
 meant to them. He even told the younger man 
 
256 "THE BROWN BIRD* 
 
 something of the pressure put upon Esther ; of how 
 her love had borne the strain, and only grown in 
 depth and strength. 
 
 " And she thought I was dead," said Stephen, 
 standing still, glad that the night hid his face, even 
 from Esther's father. 
 
 "It made no difference," said Carne, "you were 
 not dead to her. Esther is a good bit changed, Steve ; 
 she was always a sweet girl, but she's something more 
 than that now." 
 
 " I saw her face," said Stephen. " God help me to 
 be worthy of her." 
 
 They walked to the gate in silence ; there the light 
 streamed down the path from the open door, and 
 Esther met them with a radiant smile of love and 
 peace in her eyes. 
 
 " What a long while you've been ! " she said. 
 
 Mrs. Fearey was hovering behind in the doorway, 
 and Trixie, conscious of distinguished services, again 
 greeted Stephen with much demonstration. 
 
 " Come in, . come in," cried Mrs. Fearey, " we've 
 been counting the minutes. Lie down, Baby, directly, 
 this minute. I never did see such a dog, you can't 
 hear yourself speak. What with finding the money, 
 being master of the house all this while, and the 
 first to find Stephen too, he's getting so heady you 
 can't do anything with him. There, come to mother 
 this very minute and lie quiet, or you'll get such a 
 name for bad manners that Esther and Stephen will 
 never ask you to tea when they're married." 
 
 THE END 
 
 Richard Clay &> Sons, Limited, London 6° Bungay. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDCE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BOOKS 
 
 BY 
 
 G. MANVILLE FENN 
 
 Cloth boards, $s. each. 
 FITZ THE FILIBUSTER. 
 
 CHING, THE CHINAMAN, and his Middy Friends. 
 FRANK AND SAXON : A Tale of the Days of Good Queen Bess. 
 CROWN AND SCEPTRE : A West Country Story. 
 GIL THE GUNNER ; or, The Youngest Officer in the East. 
 JACK AT SEA ; or, All Work and no Play made him a Dull Boy. 
 MASS' GEORGE; or, A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannahs. 
 NED LEGER : The Adventures of a Middy on the Spanish Main. 
 PLANTER JACK; or, The Cinnamon Garden. 
 BAIL HO ! or, A Boy at Sea. 
 
 THE OCEAN CAT'S-PAW. The Story of a Strange Cruise. 
 THE PERIL FINDERS. 
 THE SILVER SALVORS: A Tale of Treasure Found and Lost. 
 
 THE VAST ABYSS. Being the Story of Tom Blount, his Uncles 
 
 and his Cousin Sam. 
 TO THE WEST. 
 UNCLE BART. The Tale of a Tyrant. 
 
2 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 CONVERSION OF THE WEST. 
 
 Showing how the Conversion of the Chief Races of the West was 
 brought about, and their condition before this occurred. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, zs. each. 
 
 THE ENGLISH. By the late Rev. G. F. Maclear, D.D. With 
 
 Two Maps. 
 THE NORTHMEN. By the above author. With Map. 
 THE SLAVS. By the above author. With Map. 
 THE CONTINENTAL TEUTONS. By the late Very Rev. C. 
 
 Merivale, D.D., D.C.L., Dean of Ely. With Map. 
 
 DIOCESAN HISTORIES. 
 
 This Series, which will embrace, when completed, every Diocese 
 in England and Wales, will furnish, it is expected, a perfect library 
 of English Ecclesiastical History. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, with Map, cloth boards. 
 
 BATH AND WELLS. By the Rev. W. Hunt. 2s. 6d. 
 CANTERBURY. By the late Rev. R. C. Jenkins. 3s. 6d. 
 CARLISLE. By Richard S. Ferguson, Esq. 2s. 6d. 
 CHESTER. By the Rev. Rupert H. Morris, D.D. 3s. 
 CHICHESTER. By the Rev. W. R. W. Stephens, M.A. 2s. 6d. 
 DURHAM. By the Rev. J. L. Low. 2s. 6d. 
 HEREFORD. By the late Rev. Canon Phillott. 3s. 
 LICHFIELD. By the Rev. W. Beresford. 2s. 6d. 
 LINCOLN. By the late Rev. Canon E. Venables and the late 
 
 Ven. Archdeacon Perry. 4s. 
 LLANDAFF. By the Rev. E. J. Newell, M.A. 35. 6d. 
 NORWICH. By the Rev. A. Jessopp, D.D. 2s. 6d. 
 OXFORD. By the Rev. E. Marshall, M.A. 2s. 6d. 
 PETERBOROUGH. By the Rev. G. A. Poole, M.A. 2s. 6d. 
 ROCHESTER. By the Rev. A. J. Pearman. 4s. 
 SALISBURY. By the Rev. W. H. Jones. 2s. 6d. 
 SODOR AND MAN. By A. W. Moore, M.A. 3s. 
 ST. ASAPH. By the Venerable Archdeacon Thomas. 2j. 
 ST. DAVID'S. By the Rev. Canon Bevan. 2s. 6d. 
 WINCHESTER. By the Rev. W. Benham, B.D. 3s. 
 WORCESTER. By the Rev. I. Gregory Smith, M.A., and the 
 
 Rev. Phipps Onslow, M.A. 3s. 6d. 
 YORK By the Rev. Canon Ornsby, M ? A. 3s. 6d. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 3 
 
 EARLY CHRONICLERS OF EUROPE. 
 
 The object of this Series is to bring readers face to face with the 
 sources of Early European History. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 4s. each. 
 
 ENGLAND. By James Gairdner. 
 
 FRANCE. By the late Gustave Masson, B.A., Univ. Gallic. 
 
 ITALY. By Ugo Balzani. 
 
 THE FATHERS FOR ENGLISH READERS. 
 
 A Series of Monographs on the Chief Fathers of the Church, the 
 Fathers selected being centres of influence at important periods of 
 Church History and in important spheres of action. 
 Fcap. Svo, cloth boards, 2s. each. 
 
 BONIFACE. By the Rev. I. Gregory Smith, M.A. [is. 6d.) 
 CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA. By the Rev. F. R. Montgomery 
 
 Hitchcock, B.D. (y.) 
 LEO THE GREAT. By the Right Rev. C. Gore, D.D. 
 GREGORY THE GREAT. By the late Rev. J. Barmby, B.D. 
 SAINT AMBROSE : his Life, Times, and Teaching. By the Rev. 
 
 R. Thornton, D.D. 
 SAINT ATHANASIUS: his Life and Times. By the Rev. R. 
 
 Wheler Bush. (2s. 6d.) 
 SAINT AUGUSTINE. By the late Rev. E. L. Cutts, D.D. 
 SAINT BASIL THE GREAT. By the Rev. R. T. Smith, B.D. 
 SAINT BERNARD: ABBOT OF CLAIR VAUX, A.D. 1091-1153. 
 
 By the Rev. S. J. Eales, M.A., D.C.L. (2*. 6d.) 
 SAINT HILARY OF POITIERS AND SAINT MARTIN OF 
 
 TOURS. By the Rev. Gibson Cazenove, D.D. 
 SAINT JEROME. By the late Rev. Edward L. Cutts, D.D. 
 SAINT JOHN OF DAMASCUS. By the Rev. J. H. Lupton, M.A. 
 SAINT PATRICK: his Life and Teaching. By the Rev. E. J. 
 
 Newell, M.A. (2s. 6d.) 
 SYNESIUS OF CYRENE, Philosopher and Bishop. By Alice 
 
 Gardner. 
 THE APOSTOLIC FATHERS. By the Rev. Canon Scott-Holland. 
 THE DEFENDERS OF THE FAITH; or, The Christian Apolo- 
 gists of the Second and Third Centuries. By the Rev. F. 
 
 Watson, D.D. 
 THE VENERABLE BEDE. By the Right Rev. G. F. Browne. 
 
4 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 EARLY CHURCH CLASSICS. 
 
 Small post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 A HOMILY OF CLEMENT OF ALEXANDEIA. Entitled, Who 
 is the Eich Man that is being saved] By the Rev. P. 
 Mordaunt Barnard. 
 
 BISHOP SABAPION'S PEAYEE-BOOK: An Egyptian Pontifical 
 dated probably about A.D. 350—356. Translated from the 
 Edition of Dr. G. Wobbermin. With Introduction, Notes, and 
 Indices, by the Right Rev. J. Wordsworth, D.D. (is. 6d.) 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE'S TEEATISE ON THE CITY OF GOD. By the 
 Rev. F. R. Montgomery Hitchcock, (is. 6d.) 
 
 ST. CYPEIAN ON THE LOED'S PEAYEE. An English Trans- 
 lation, with Introduction, by the Rev. T. Herbert Bindley, 
 D.D. (is. 6d.) 
 
 ST. POLYCAEP, Bishop of Smyrna. By the Rev. Blomfield 
 Jackson, M.A. 
 
 THE DCCTEINE OF THE TWELVE APOSTLES. Translated into 
 English, with Introduction and Notes, by Rev. C. Bigg, D.D. 
 
 THE EPISTLE OF ST. CLEMENT, Bishop of Eome. By the 
 Rev. John A. F. Gregg, M.A. 
 
 THE EPISTLE OF THE GALLICAN CHUECHES: Lugdnnnm 
 and Vienna. With an Appendix containing Tertullian's Ad- 
 dress to Martyrs and the Passion of St. Perpetua. Translated, 
 \\iih Introduction and Notes, by Rev. T. H. Bindley, (is.) 
 
 THE EPISTLES OF ST. IGNATIUS, Bishop of Antioch. By tbe 
 Rev. J. H. Srawley, M.A. In two volumes, (is. each.) 
 
 THE LITUEGY OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OF "THE APOSTOLIC 
 CONSTITUTIONS." 'translated into English, with Introduc- 
 tion and Notes, by Rev. R. H. Cresswell. (is. 6d.) 
 
 THE SHEPHEED OF HEEMAS. By the Rev. C. Taylor, D.D., 
 LL.D. Vol. I. (2J.) 
 
 MANUALS OF ELEMENTARY SCIENCE, 
 
 Fcap. Svo, limp cloth, is. each. 
 ELECTEICITY. By the late Professor Fleeming Jenkin. 
 PHYSIOLOGY. By A. Macalister, LL.D., M.D., F.R.S. 
 GEOLOGY. By the Rev. T. G. Bonney, Sc.D., LL.D., F.G.S. 
 CEYSTALLOGEAPHY. By Henry Palin Gurney, M.A. 
 ASTEONCMY. By W. H. M. Christie, M.A., F.R.S. 
 BOTANY. By the late Professor Bentley. 
 ZOOLOGY. By Alfred Newton, M.A., F.R.S. 
 MATTEE AND MOTION. By the late J. Clerk Maxwell, M.A. 
 SPECTEOSCOPE AND ITS WOEK, THE. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 5 
 
 THE HOME LIBRARY. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 BLACK AND WHITE. By the late H. A. Forde. 
 CHARLEMAGNE. By the late Rev. E. L. Cutts, D.D. With 
 Map. 
 
 CHURCH IN ROMAN GAUL (THE). By the Rev. R. Travers 
 Smith, B.D. With Map. 
 
 CONSTANTINE THE GREAT. The Union of the Church and 
 State. By the late Rev. E. L. Cutts, D.D. 
 
 JOHN HUS. The commencement of Resistance to Papal 
 Authority on the part of the Inferior Clergy. By the Rev. 
 A. H. Wratislaw, M.A. 
 
 JUDJEA AND HER RULERS, from Nehuchadnezzar to Vespasian. 
 
 By M. Bramston. With Map. 
 MAZARIN. By the late Gustave Masson. 
 MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES : the 
 
 Hospitallers, the Templars, the Teutonic Knights, and others. 
 By the Rev. F. C. Woodhouse, M.A. 
 
 MITSLAV ; or, the Conversion of Pomerania. By the late Right 
 Rev. R. Milman, D.D. With Map. 
 
 NARCISSUS : a Tale of Early Christian Times. By the Right 
 
 Rev. W. Boyd Carpenter, Bishop of Ripon. 
 RICHELIEU. By the late Gustave Masson. 
 SKETCHES OF THE WOMEN OF CHRISTENDOM. Dedicated 
 
 to the Women of India. By the late Mrs. Rundle Charles. 
 THE CHURCHMAN'S LIFE OF WESLEY. By R. Denny 
 
 Urlin, Esq., F.S.S. 
 THE INNER LIFE, as Revealed in the Correspondence of 
 
 Celebrated Christians. Edited by the late Rev. T. Erskine. 
 THE NORTH- AFRICAN CHURCH. By the late Rev. Julius 
 
 Lloyd, M.A. With Map. 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE SOUL IN THE WORLD: its Nature, 
 Needs, Dangers, Sorrows, Aids, and Joys. By the Rev. F. C. 
 Woodhouse, M.A. 
 
 THOUGHTS AND CHARACTERS: being Selections from the 
 Writings of the late Mrs. Rundle Charles. 
 
6 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE ANCIENT PEOPLES 
 OF THE CLASSIC EAST. 
 
 By Professor Maspero. Edited by the Rev. Professor Sayce. 
 Translated by M. L. McClure. Each volume contains a Map, 
 coloured Plates, and numerous other Illustrations. Demy 4to, 
 cloth, bevelled boards. 
 
 Volume I.— THE DAWN OF CIVILIZATION: Egypt and 
 
 Chaldaea. Fourth Edition, revised. 24s. 
 
 Volume II.— THE STRUGGLE OF THE NATIONS: Egypt, 
 Syria, and Assyria. 255-. 
 
 Volume III.— THE PASSING OF THE EMPIRES, 850 B.C.— 
 330 B.C. 25s. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY FROM THE MONUMENTS. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. each. 
 
 SINAI : from the Fourth Egyptian Dynasty to the Present Day. 
 
 By the late Henry S. Palmer, Major R.E., F.R.A.S. A 
 new revised edition by the Rev. Professor Sayce. With Map. 
 
 BABYLONIA (THE HISTORY OF). By the late George Smith. 
 Edited and brought up to date by the Rev. Professor A. H. 
 Sayce. 
 
 ASSYRIA : from the Earliest Times to the Fall of Nineveh. By 
 
 the late George Smith. New and revised edition by the 
 Rev. Professor A. H. Sayce. 
 
 PERSIA: from the Earliest Period to the Arab Conquest. By 
 the late W. S. W. Vaux, M.A., F.R.S. A new and revised 
 edition by the Rev. Professor A. H. Sayce. 
 
 THE HIGHER CRITICISM, and the Verdict of the Monuments. 
 By the Rev. Professor A. H. Sayce. Fifth Edition. Demy 
 8vo, buckram boards, 7j\ 6d. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 7 
 
 SPECIFIC SUBJECTS. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, limp cloth, ^d. each. 
 
 ALGEBRA. By W. H. H. Hudson, M.A. 
 
 (Answers to the Examples given in the above, limp cloth, 6d.) 
 
 EUCLID. Books i and 2. Edited by W. H. H. Hudson, M.A. 
 
 ELEMENTARY MECHANICS. By W. Garnett, M.A. 
 
 PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. By the Rev. T. G. Bonney, M.A. 
 
 NON-CHRISTIAN RELIGIOUS SYSTEMS. 
 
 A Series of Manuals which furnish in a brief and popular form an 
 accurate account of the Great Non-Christian Religious Systems of 
 the World. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, zr. 6d. each. 
 
 BUDDHISM : being a Sketch of the Life and Teachings of 
 Gautama, the Buddha. By T. W. Rhys Davids, M.A., 
 Ph.D. With Map. 
 
 BUDDHISM IN CHINA. By the late Rev. S. Beal. With Map. 
 
 CHRISTIANITY AND BUDDHISM : a Comparison and a Contrast. 
 By the Rev. T. Sterling Berry, D.D. 
 
 CONFUCIANISM AND TAOUISM. By Robert K. Douglas, 
 of the British Museum. With Map. 
 
 HINDUISM. By the late Sir M. Monier Williams, M.A., 
 D.C.L. With Map. New and Revised Edition. 
 
 ISLAM AND ITS FOUNDER. By J. W. H. Stobart. With Map. 
 
 ISLAM AS A MISSIONARY RELIGION. By C. R. Haines. {2s.) 
 
 STUDIES OF NON-CHRISTIAN RELIGIONS. By Eliot Howard. 
 
 THE CORAN : its Composition and Teaching, and the Testimony 
 it bears to the Holy Scriptures. By Sir William Muir, 
 K.C.S.I., LL.D., D.C.L., Ph.D. 
 
 THE RELIGION OF THE CRESCENT; or, Islam, its Strength, 
 its Weakness, its Origin, its Influence. By the Rev. W. St. 
 Clair-Tisdall, M.A., C.M.S. {4s.) 
 
O PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 CHIEF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHIES. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, zs. 6d. each. 
 
 PLATONISM. By the Rev. Thomas B. Strong, M.A. (3s.) 
 NEOPLATONISM. By the Rev. C. Bigg, D.D. (y.) 
 ARISTOTELIANISM. By the Rev. I. Gregory Smith, M.A. 
 
 and the Rev. W. Grundy, M.A. 
 EPICUREANISM. By the late William Wallace, M.A. 
 STOICISM. By the Rev. W. W. Capes. 
 
 EARLY BRITAIN. 
 
 ANGLO-SAXON BRITAIN. By the late Grant Allen. With 
 
 Map. Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 CELTIC BRITAIN. By Professor Rhys. With two Maps Fcap. 
 
 8vo, cloth boards, $s. 
 NORMAN BRITAIN. By the Rev. W. Hunt. With Map. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 POST-NORMAN BRITAIN. By Henry G. Hewlett. With 
 
 Map. Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, 3.?. 
 ROMAN BRITAIN. By Edward Conybeare. With Map. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth boards, $s. 6d, 
 ROMAN ROADS IN BRITAIN. By Thomas Codrington, 
 
 M.Inst.C.E., F.G.S. With several Maps. Second Edition, 
 
 Revised. Fcap. 8vo, cloth bo*ds, 55-. 
 
 HEROES OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 3s. each. 
 ASTRONOMERS. By E. J. C. Morton, B.A. With Diagrams. 
 BOTANISTS, ZOOLOGISTS, AND GEOLOGISTS. By Prof. P. 
 
 Martin Duncan, F.R.S. 
 CHEMISTS. By M. M. Pattison Muir, Esq., F.R.S.E. With 
 
 Diagrams. 
 MECHANICIANS. By T. C. Lewis, M.A. 
 PHYSICISTS. By William Garnett, Esq., M.A., D.C.L. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF SCIENCE. 
 
 This Series shows that Science has for the masses as great interest 
 as, and more edification than, the romances of the day. 
 
 Post 8vo, with numerous illustrations, cloth boards. 
 
 COAL, AND WHAT WE GET FROM IT. By Professor R. 
 Meldola, F.R.S., F.I.C. 2s. 6d. 
 
 COLOUR MEASUREMENT AND MIXTURE. By Sir W. de W. 
 Abney, K.C.B., R.E., F.R.S. 2s. 6d. • 
 
 DISEASES OF PLANTS. By Professor Marshall Ward. 2s. 6J. 
 
 OUR SECRET FRIENDS AND FOES. By Percy Faraday 
 Frankland, Ph.D., F.R.S. Fourth edition. 3*. 
 
 SOAP-BUBBLES, AND THE FORCES WHICH MOULD THEM. 
 
 By C. V. Boys, A.R.S.M., F.R.S. 2s. 6d. 
 
 SOUNDING THE OCEAN OF AIR. By A. Lawrence Rotch, 
 S.B., A.M. 2 s. 6d. 
 
 SPINNING-TOPS. By Professor J. Perry, M.E., F.R.S. 2s. 6d. 
 
 TIME AND TIDE : a Romance of the Moon. By Sir Robert 
 S. Ball. Fourth edition, revised. 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE MACHINERY OF THE UNIVERSE. Mechanical Con- 
 ceptions of Physical Phenomena. By Professor A. E. 
 Dolbear, A.B., A.M., M.E., Ph.D. 2s. 
 
 THE MAKING OF FLOWERS. By the Rev. Professor G. 
 Henslow, M.A., F.L.S., F.G.S. 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE STORY OF A TINDER-BOX. By the late C. Meymott 
 Tidy, M.B., M.S. 2s. 
 
 THE BIRTH AND GROWTH OF WORLDS. A Lecture by the 
 
 late Professor A. H. Green, M. A., F.R.S. is. 
 
 THE SPLASH OF A DROP. By Professor A. M. Worthington, 
 M.A., F.R.S. 1*. 6d. 
 
IO PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 MRS. RUNDLE CHARLES. 
 
 TE DEUM LAUDAMUS. 
 
 Christian Life in Song. The Song and the Singers. Crown 
 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 THREE MARTYRS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Studies from the Lives of Livingstone, Gordon, and Fatteson. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, is. 6d. 
 
 MARTYRS AND SAINTS OF THE FIRST TWELVE CENTURIES. 
 Studies from the Lives of the Elack-Letter Saints of the 
 English Calendar. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 31. 6d. 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE WOMEN OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 AGAINST THE STREAM. 
 
 The Story of an Heroic Age in England. With Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 CONQUERING AND TO CONQUER. 
 
 A Story of Rome in the Days of St. Jerome. Crown 8vo, 
 
 cloth boards, 2s. 
 
 LAPSED, BUT NOT LOST. 
 
 A Story of Roman Carthage. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 
 
 THOUGHTS AND CHARACTERS. 
 
 Being Selections from the Writings of the same Author. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 ECCE ANCILLA DOMINI. MARY THE MOTHER OF OUR LORD. 
 
 Studies in the Ideal of Womanhood. Post 8vo, cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 ECCE HOMO, ECCE REX. 
 
 Pages from the Story of the Moral Conquests of Christianity. 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE BEATITUDES. 
 
 Thoughts for All Saints' Day. Post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 "BY THE MYSTERY OF THY HOLY INCARNATION" 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth boards, If. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. II 
 
 Mrs. Rundle Charles' Works {continued). 
 
 "BY THY CROSS AND PASSION." 
 
 Thoughts on the Words spoken around and on the Cross. 
 Post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 '•BY THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION AND ASCENSION." 
 Easter Thoughts. Post 8vo, cloth boards, ix. 
 
 11 BY THE COMING OF THE HOLY GHOST." 
 
 Thoughts for Whitsuntide. Post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 THE TRUE VINE. 
 
 Post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 THE GREAT PRAYER OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Thoughts on the Lord's Prayer. Post 8vo, cloth boards, is. 
 
 AN OLD STORY OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 One Link in the Great Pedigree. Fcap. 4to, with Six Plates 
 beautifully printed in colours. Cloth boards, 2s. 
 
 JOAN THE MAID. 
 
 Deliverer of England and France. Demy 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 SONGS, OLD AND NEW. 
 
 Demy i6mo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 EARLY CHRISTIAN MISSIONS OF IRELAND, SCOTLAND, 
 AND ENGLAND. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 WITHIN THE VEIL. 
 
 Studies in the Epistle to the Hebrews. Post 8vo, cloth, u. 
 
 THE BOOK OF THE UNVEILING. 
 
 Studies in the Revelation of St. John the Divine. Post 8vo, 
 cloth boards, is. 
 
 LADY AUGUSTA STANLEY. 
 
 Reminiscences. i8mo, limp cloth, 6d. 
 
 ATTILA AND HIS CONQUERORS. 
 
 A Story of the Days of St. Patrick and St. Leo the Great. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 2s. 
 
12 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 MRS. EWING'S WORKS. 
 
 SNAPDEAGONS : a Tale of Christmas Eve ; and OLD FATHER 
 CHRISTMAS. Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Small 4to, 
 paper boards, is. 
 
 THE PEACE EGG, AND A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY. 
 
 Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 MARY'S MEADOW, AND LETTERS FROM A LITTLE GARDEN. 
 
 Illustrated by Gordon Browne. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE ; or, The Luck of Lingborough. Illus- 
 trated by the late R. Caldecott. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 STORY OF A SHORT LIFE (THE). Illustrated by Gordon 
 Browne. Small 4to, paper boards, I*. 
 
 DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOTE : a Country Tale. Illustrated by 
 the late R. Caldecott. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 DANDELION CLOCKS, AND OTHER TALES. Illustrated by 
 Gordon Browne, and other Artists. Small 4to, paper 
 boards, is. 
 
 JACKANAPES. With Seventeen Illustrations by the late Ran. 
 dolph Caldecott. Small 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
 BROTHERS OF PITY; and other Tales of Beasts and Men. 
 Crown 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 
 
 OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY TALES. Fcap. 4to, with numerous 
 Woodcuts, ornamental paper boards, 3*. 6d. 
 
 Library Edition of "Jackanapes," " Daddy Darwin's Dovecote," 
 and "Lob Lie-by- the-Fire." In one volume. Small 4to, 
 cloth boards, 5s. 
 
 JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS. By Horatia 
 K. F. Gatty. With a Portrait by George Reid, R.S.A. 
 Illustrated by facsimiles from Mrs. E wing's Sketches, and a 
 cover designed by the late Randolph Caldecott. Small 
 4to, paper boards, is. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. . 1 3 
 
 UNIFORM LIBRARY EDITION OF 
 MRS. EWING'S WORKS. 
 
 Crown 8vo, half cloth, is. 6d. each ; or complete in a case, 28 J. 
 
 Vol. I. contains — " Melchior's Dream," and other Tales, "The 
 Blackbird's Nest," "A Bit of Green," " Friedrich's Ballad," 
 " Monsieur the Viscount's Friend," etc. 
 
 Vol. II. contains — "Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances," "Ida," 
 " Mrs. Moss," "The Snoring Ghost," etc. 
 
 Vol. III. contains — " Old-fashioned Fairy Tales." 
 
 Vol. IV. contains — "A Flat Iron for a Farthing." 
 
 Vol. V. contains — "The Brownies," "The Land of Lost Toys," 
 "Three Christmas Trees," "An Idyll of the Wood," etc. 
 
 Vol. VI. contains — " Six to Sixteen." A Story for Girls. 
 
 Vol. VII. contains — "Lob Lie-by-the-Fire," and other Tales, 
 " Timothy's Shoes," " Benjy in Beastland," " So-So," etc. 
 
 Vol. VIII. contains— "Jan of the Windmill." 
 
 Vol. IX. contains — Verses for Children, Songs for Music, and 
 Hymns. With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 Vol. X. contains — "The Peace Egg," "A Christmas Mumming 
 Play," "Snapdragons," " Old Father Christmas," etc. 
 
 Vol. XL contains — "A Great Emergency," and other Tales, "A 
 very Ill-tempered Family," "Our Field," "Madam Liberality." 
 
 Vol. XII. contains — ** Brothers of Pity," and other Tales of Beasts 
 and Men, " Father Hedge-hog and his Neighbours," "Toots 
 and Boots," " The Hens of Hencastle," etc. 
 
 Vol. XIII. contains— "We and the World," Part I. 
 
 Vol. XIV. contains—" We and the World," Part II. 
 
 Vol. XV. contains — "Jackanapes," "Daddy Darwin's Dovecote," 
 "The Story of a Short Life." 
 
 Vol. XVI. contains — " Mary's Meadow," and other Tales of Fields 
 and Flowers. 
 
 Vol. XVII. contains — Miscellanea, including "The Mystery of the 
 Bloody Hand," "Wonder Stories," "Tales of the Khoja," and 
 other Translations. 
 
 Vol. XVIII. contains — "Juliana Horatia Ewing and her Books," 
 with a Selection from Mrs. Ewing's Letters. 
 
14 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD. 
 
 Crown Zvo. Illustrated. Cloth boards, 35. 6d. each. 
 JACK BERESFORD'S YARN. 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "ESMERALDA." 
 THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE. 
 THE PIRATE SLAVER. 
 
 BY THE LATE W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Illustrated. Cloth boards. 
 
 MICHAEL PENGUYNE ; or, Fisher Life on the Cornish Coast. 
 Crown 8vo, If. 
 
 MOUNTAIN MOGGY; or, The Stoning of the Witch. Crown 8vo, is. 
 
 NED GARTH ; or, Made Prisoner in Africa. A Tale of the Slave 
 Trade. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 OWEN HARTLEY; or, Ups and Downs. Crown 8vo, is. 
 
 ROB NIXON, THE OLD WHITE TRAPPER. A Tale of Central 
 British North America. Post 8vo, gd. 
 
 SUNSHINE BILL. Crown 8vo, is. 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "DAINTY." Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 
 
 THE LILY OF LEYDEN. Post 8vo, gd. 
 
 THE FRONTIER FORT; or, Stirring Times in the North- West 
 Territory of British America. Crown 8vo, if. 
 
 THE GILPINS AND THEIR FORTUNES. A Tale of Australia. 
 Crown 8vo, if. 
 
 THE LOG HOUSE BY THE LAKE. A Tale of Canada. Crown 
 8vo, is. 
 
 THE MATE OF THE "LILY" ; or, Notes from Harry Musgrave's 
 Log-Book. Crown 8vo, is. 
 
 THE SETTLERS. A Tale of Virginia. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE TWO SHIPMATES. Crown 8vo, If. 
 
 THE TWO WHALERS; or, Adventures in the Pacific. Crown 
 
 8vo, is. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 1 5 
 
 BY MRS. MOLESWORTH. 
 
 A CHARGE FULFILLED. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 A HOUSE TO LET. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 2s. 6d. 
 FAMILY TROUBLES. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, is. 
 FIVE MINUTES' STORIES. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 
 
 2S. 
 
 FRIENDLY JOEY. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 2s. 6d. 
 GREAT UNCLE HOOT-TOOT. Illustrated. Small 4to, is. 6d. 
 LETTICE. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. 
 
 OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 THE ABBEY BY THE SEA. Illustrated. Post 8vo, gd. 
 THE LUCKY DUCKS. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 2s. 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE PAN-PIPES, etc. Coloured Illustrations. 
 
 Small 4to, 2s. 
 TWELVE TINY TALES. Coloured Illustrations. Small 4to, 
 
 2S. 
 
 BY GORDON STABLES, M.D., CM., R.N. 
 
 Crown Svo. Illustrated. Cloth boards. 
 
 BORN TO COMMAND. A Tale of the Sea and of Sailors. 5*. 
 CAPTAIN JAPP ; or, The Strange Adventures of Willie Gordon. 5*. 
 CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAINS. A Story of Life in Scottish 
 
 Wilds. S s - 
 "FROM GREENLAND'S ICY MOUNTAINS." A Tale of the 
 
 Polar Seas. 2s. 
 HARRY WILDE. A Tale of the Brine and the Breeze. 2s. 6d. 
 
 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE. Tales and Sketches from the 
 
 Life. 2s. 
 ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP. A Tale of the Salt, 
 
 Salt Sea. 2s. 6d. 
 
1 6 PUBLICATIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BY MRS. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. 
 
 Crown 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth boards. 
 HONOR PENTREATH. y. 
 JAMES GODFREY'S WIFE. $s. 
 JENNIFER'S FORTUNE. 3* 6d. 
 MATTHEW PARKYN. 3*. 6d. 
 REUBEN THORNE'S TEMPTATION. 2S. 
 ROSCORLA FARM. 3* 6d. 
 
 BYF. FRANKFORT MOORE. 
 
 Crown 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth boards. 
 
 CORAL AND COCOANUT. The Cruise of the Yacht "Firefly" 
 to Samoa. 3-r. 6d. 
 
 FIREFLIES AND MOSQUITOES. 3s. 6d. 
 
 FROM THE BUSH TO THE BREAKERS. 3s. 6d. 
 
 SAILING AND SEALING. A Tale of the North Pacific. 3*. 6d. 
 
 THE FATE OF THE " BLACK SWAN." A Tale of New Guinea. 
 
 3* 
 THE "GREAT ORION." 2s. 6d. 
 THE ICE PRISON, is. 6d. 
 THE MUTINY ON THE "ALBATROSS." 3*. 
 THE SLAVER OF ZANZIBAR. is. 6d. 
 THE TWO CLIPPERS. 35. 6d. 
 TRE, POL AND PEN. 2s. 6d. 
 WILL'S VOYAGES. 3s. 
 
 London : 
 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 northumberland avenue, w.c. ; 43, queen victoria street, e.c 
 
 Brighton: 129, North Street. 
 
$ 
 
"-" 
 
 
 .-':!'■ 
 ..-/:■, v:= ■: '. . ' 
 
 :-.•::-.:. ■.:■:« :-:: 
 
 ■ : . ■: 
 
 ' - 
 
 : 
 
 ........ V ■ : . ■ ■... :•..::. . ;.-• -■ ; .... -: . 
 
 
 ■ - '■:■:■ 
 
 : ''7'"'".'.'. : :: • "]■' 
 
 . ri.- . . . . ' :' . '.. ■' 
 
 "■ ■■.; :: -:.v -.;I- : 
 ■• ; . 
 
 . : : : . 
 
 . 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 ■ .■■■■■■•■ .■■■■■ ■■■.-.. vv . .•::■.-... . 
 
 ■ ' :: " ■;' '■ ■ ■ ' 
 
 ■•.■■'V:.V:- . •' '-V; ' ',- ■ '.• -- : ■'■■'■•. 
 
 
 :, , 
 
 ■