There, too, as at Dover, on the dark face of those rocks, the fine green tufts of the samphire grow. The waves outside the chine are white as snow with foam and fury, while within the water is calm, deep, and dark as those of a far-sunk well. Above, around, and below, the sea-birds wheel and scream, for the clefts and crannies of the rocks are full of their nests. And here, in explanation, we may add that chine is an old Anglo-Norman word, derived from echine--a gash or rent; and these chasms are so named in some parts of England, particularly about the Isle of Wight, where we find Compton Chine, Brook Chine, and the Black Gang Chine. Morley peeped over into the awful profundity below, and then shrank back instinctively, with an emotion of inexpressible alarm and awe--it seemed so vast, so terrible! Retiring, he seated himself on the verge of the giddy cliff and removed his hat, that the sea-breeze might play on his hot and flushed forehead. Cool and grateful, it refreshed, soothed, and calmed him. Impressed by the beauty of the scene and of the evening, a calm joy pervaded Morley's heart, and he prayed a voiceless prayer to God to strengthen him for his destiny. What put prayer into his head at such a time? The scene was grandly terrible on one side, and softly serene on the other; but Morley was familiar with both. Was it present happiness, or a solemn foreboding of future woe, that filled his soul with pious thoughts? Morley himself could not tell. He thought of the future; and none can foresee what is in the womb of Time. To be separated from Ethel--ah! there was no chance of that now; but Hawkshaw--the cunning and hateful Cramply Hawkshaw--for some brief space would hover about her still! What of that? The broad waters of the mighty sea on which he looked, and whose breakers boiled against the rocks four hundred feet below him--the sea from which a red moon, round and vast as a chariot-wheel, was rising--would be around him and Ethel, and this man Hawkshaw would be left behind. While these thoughts occurred to Morley, he opened his portemonnaie, and drew forth the ring he had promised to return. At that moment Hawkshaw, who was seated behind him, crept near, with a visage pale, damp, and distorted by malevolence, and with a fiendish glare in his eye. * * * * * About an hour after this, the captain was seen leisurely proceeding along the road to Laurel Lodge. _He was alone!_ CHAPTER IX. ALARM. Darkness had set in, and candles had been lighted for an hour nearly, when Hawkshaw entered the now half dismantled drawing-room of Laurel Lodge. Rose was idling over the piano; Ethel was seated near the unremoved tea equipage, and Mr. Basset was busy among some papers in his escritoire. Hawkshaw, for reasons of his own, dared not encounter the pale, inquiring face of Ethel.