The Cottage with its sloping garden was perched high on the side of one of two outstanding cliffs which formed a deep, narrow bay. So far did these chalk-walls jut out, so narrow was the space between, that the view from the land had a confined, stage-like effect. The coast-line on either side was completely hidden from sight, only the blue-green waters stretched ahead, but these waters were one of the highways of a nation's life, and o'er its surface all kinds of craft passed to and fro, in endless panorama. When the tide was up, the great steamers could safely take the inshore channel, while near at hand, and looking as if one could, in nautical language, "throw a biscuit aboard," the smaller craft plied their way to and fro. Now it would be a small sailing barge, with captain, mate, and crew, comprised in one single hand, anon a white-sailed yacht, with gleaming brass-work and spotless paint, or a coasting collier, grimy and drab, her screw out of water, as she churned her homeward way. In fine weather coasting passenger-boats ventured near shore, while farther off the pilot-boats of many nations could be discerned, decked with gay strings of signalling flags, and the busy tugs plied far and near, endlessly on the watch for chances of salvage. One misty day as Jean sat perched alone on the edge of the railed-in garden, at a point from which she could have dropped a stone into the sea beneath, a smooth grey keel glided noiselessly round the corner of the cliff, and another, and yet a third--low-built, ominous-looking monsters, the colour of the fog, the colour of the waves, Her Majesty's battleships, each bearing on board its complement of seven hundred men. To-night, as the daylight faded slowly away, the different lights at sea attracted the watching eye. From the left came a merry, starlike twinkle, as from a faithful friend who kept firmly to his post; beyond him in the dim distance was the humourist, who for ten seconds on end indulged in a stony stare, then darkened, gave two cunning winks, and so again to his stare. Right ahead was the big revolving light which, like a constable afloat, divided the traffic--"This way for the river, that for the North Sea!" High over all swung the rays from the great lighthouse on the downs.