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"May I niver glimpse the blissid blue av Ireland's skies ag'in, if I spake a lie," said Harry, earnestly. "In the ha'nted house I found ut, Billy. Wait now, and I tell ye how ut so happened. Ye'll be rememberin' that night we tried to wait fer ould Scroggie's ghost an' the terrible storm come on and split us asunder wid a flash av blue lightnin'? I was crossin' meself in thankfulness that ut found the big elm instead av me, I was, whin I dropped me fairy charm, d'ye moind? Stay and seek fer ut I would not, wid all the powers av darkness conspirin' wid ould Scroggie ag'in me. Ut's fly I did on the wings av terror to me own cabin, an' covered up me head wid the bed-quilt, I did." He was Mr Walter Lawrence, a son of Admiral Lawrence, and down to a recent period a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. He was something over thirty years of age, but drink, dissipation, the hard life of the sea and some fever which had got into his blood and proved intermittent, had worked in his face like time, and he might have passed for any age between thirty-five and forty-five. Nevertheless he was an extremely handsome man, of the classic Greek type in lineament, but improved, at least to the British eye, by the Saxon colouring of hair, skin, and eyes. His teeth were extraordinarily white and good for a sailor who had lived on gun-room fare in times when the ship's biscuit was flint, and the peas which rolled about in the discoloured hot water called soup, fit only for loading a blunderbuss with to shoot men dead. His eyes told their tale of drink, but they were large and fine and spirited; his light brown hair, according to the fashion of[Pg 39] the age, was combed down his back and lay in a rope-shaped tail there. He wore a wide-brimmed round hat, and his attire, a little the worse for wear, consisted of a blue coat, white waistcoat, sage-green kerseymere breeches, and, needless to say, the cravat was high and full. He stood about six feet, his figure was extremely well proportioned, and in addition to these merits his carriage had the easy elegance which the flow of the billow and the heave of the deck infuse into all human figures not radically vile and deformed. His voice was soft, winning, and somewhat plaintive, and no man, whether on or off the stage, not even Incledon, sang a song with more exquisite feeling and sweeter sincerity of passion. Each spring the farmers attended the fishermen's annual bee of pile-driving, which meant the placing of the stakes for the pound nets—a dangerous and thankless task. Wet, weary and hungry, they would return to their homes at night with considerable more faith in the reward that comes of helping one's fellow-men than in the promise of the fishermen to keep them supplied, gratis, with all the fresh fish they needed during the season..

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"Nary a word but I asked him what he intended to do with the Scroggie hardwoods. He told me that he had sold it to a lumber company. He says there'll be a big camp of cutters and sawyers down here this winter. I said I supposed he'd be goin' back to the States jest as soon as he got things cleared up here, an' you ought to see the queer look he gave me. "My daughter, sir!" cried Captain Acton. Erie was standing against the gate, her arms stretched along its top, hands clenching its rough pickets. "Oh yes, sir; how could she be mistaken?"[Pg 361] answered Lucy. "How beautiful she looked as she came towards us!".