Ethelberta and Picotee were at this time standing on the beach a hundred and fifty yards off. Whether or not the master of the steamer received the information volunteered by Flower, the two girls saw the triangle of lamps get narrow at its base, reduce themselves to two in a vertical line, then to one, then to darkness. The Spruce had turned her head from Knollsea. 'They have gone back, and I shall not have my wedding things after all!' said Ethelberta. 'Well, I must do without them.' 'You see, 'twas best to play sure,' said Flower to his comrades, in a tone of complacency. 'They might have been able to do it, but 'twas risky. The shop-folk be out of stock, I hear, and the visiting lady up the hill is terribly in want of clothes, so 'tis said. But what's that? Ounce ought to have put back afore.' Then the lantern which hung at the end of the jetty was taken down, and the darkness enfolded all around from view. The bay became nothing but a voice, the foam an occasional touch upon the face, the Spruce an imagination, the pier a memory. Everything lessened upon the senses but one; that was the wind. It mauled their persons like a hand, and caused every scrap of their raiment to tug westward. To stand with the face to sea brought semi-suffocation, from the intense pressure of air. The boatmen retired to their position under the wall, to lounge again in silence. Conversation was not considered necessary: their sense of each other's presence formed a kind of conversation. Meanwhile Picotee and Ethelberta went up the hill. 'If your wedding were going to be a public one, what a misfortune this delay of the packages would be,' said Picotee. 'Yes,' replied the elder. 'I think the bracelet the prettiest of all the presents he brought to- day--do you?' 'It is the most valuable.' 'Lord Mountclere is very kind, is he not? I like him a great deal better than I did--do you, Berta?' 'Yes, very much better,' said Ethelberta, warming a little. 'If he were not so suspicious at odd moments I should like him exceedingly. But I must cure him of that by a regular course of treatment, and then he'll be very nice.' 'For an old man. He likes you better than any young man would take the trouble to do. I wish somebody else were old too.' 'He will be some day.' 'Yes, but--' 'Never mind: time will straighten many crooked things.' 'Do you think Lord Mountclere has reached home by this time?' 'I should think so: though I believe he had to call at the parsonage before leaving Knollsea.' 'Had he? What for?' 'Why, of course somebody must--' 'O yes. Do you think anybody in Knollsea knows it is going to be except us and the parson?' 'I suppose the clerk knows.' 'I wonder if a lord has ever been married so privately before.'