“You are very religious, Miss Levinger, are you not?” he said. “Religious? What made you think so? No; I wish I were. I have certain beliefs, and I try to be—that is all.” “It was watching your face in church that gave me the idea, or rather assured me of the fact,” he answered. She coloured, and then said: “Why do you ask? You believe in our religion, do you not?” “Yes, I believe in it. I think that you will find few men of my profession who do not—perhaps because their continual contact with the forces and dangers of nature brings about dependence upon an unseen protecting Power. Also my experience is that religion in one form or another is necessary to all human beings. I never knew a man to be quite happy who was devoid of it in some shape.” “Religion does not always bring happiness, or even peace,” said Emma. “My experience is very small—indeed, I have none outside books and the village—but I have seen it in the case of my own father. I do not suppose it possible that a man could be more religious than he has been ever since I can remember much about him; but certainly he is not happy, nor can he reconcile himself to the idea of death, which to me, except for its physical side, does not seem such a terrible matter.” “I should say that your father is a very nervous man,” Henry answered; “and the conditions of your life and of his may have been quite different. Everybody feels these things according to his temperament.” “Yes, he is nervous,” she said; then added suddenly, as though she wished to change the subject, “Look! there is the sea. How beautiful it is! Were you not sorry to leave it, Captain Graves?” By now they had turned off the main road, and, following a lane which was used to cart sand and shingle from the beach, had reached a chalky slope known as the Cliff. Below them was a stretch of sand, across which raced the in-coming tide, and beyond lay the great ocean, blue in the far distance, but marked towards the shore with parallel lines of white-crested billows. Hitherto the afternoon had been dull, but as Emma spoke the sunlight broke through the clouds, cutting a path of glory athwart the sea. “Sorry to leave it!” he said, staring at the familiar face of the waters, and speaking almost passionately: “it has pretty well broken my heart—that is all. I loved my profession, it was everything to me: there I was somebody, and had a prospect before me; now I am nobody, and have none, except——” And he stopped. “And why did you leave?” she asked. “For the same reason that we all do disagreeable things: because it was my duty. My brother died, and my family desired my presence, so I was obliged to retire from the Service, and there is an end of it.” “I guessed as much,” said Emma softly, “and I am very sorry for you. Well, we cannot go any farther, so we had better turn.”