He held up the ring to the light, his white hand looking very thin and wasted, and the worn gold glistened and the old engraved blood-stone showed its design almost as clearly as when it was first cut. "`Roy et Foy!'" muttered the old man, reading the motto beneath the crest. "Bit of vanity. Margaret asked where it was, last time I saw her. Let's see; I lost you twice, once when I wore you as I was fishing off the pier, and once on the black rock you slipped off my bony finger, and each time the sea washed you into a crack." He smiled as he gazed at the ring, and there was a pleasant, handsome trace of what he had been as a young man in his refined features. "Please the young dog--old family ring," he muttered. "Might sell it and make a pound. No, he may have it when I'm gone. Can't be so very long." He hung the ring upon the nail once more, and spent the rest of the afternoon gazing out to sea, sometimes running over the past, but more often looking out for the glistening and flashing of the sea beneath where a flock of gulls were hovering over some shoal of fish. It was quite evening when there was a staid, heavy step and the click of nailed boots, as the old fish-woman came toiling up the cliff path, her basket on her back, and the band which supported it across her brow. "Any fish to sell, Master Vine?" she said in a sing-song tone. "I looked down the pier, but you weren't there." "How could I be there when I'm up here, Poll Perrow?" "Ah, to be sure; how could you?" said the old woman, trying to nod her head, but without performing the feat, on account of her basket. "Got any fish to sell?" "No. Yes," said the old man. "That's right. I want some to-night. Will you go and fetch it?" "Yes. Stop there," said Uncle Luke sourly, as he saw a chance of making a few pence, and wondered whether he would get enough from his customer. "Mind my sitting down inside, Master Luke Vine, sir? It's hot, and I'm tired; and it's a long way up here." "Why do you come, then?" "Wanted to say a few words to you about my gal when we've done our bit o' trade." "Come in and sit down, then," said the old man gruffly. And his visitor slipped the leather band from her forehead, set her basket on the granite wall, and went into the kitchen-like room, wiping her brow as she seated herself in the old rush-bottomed chair. "I'll fetch it here," said Uncle Luke, and he went round to the back, to return directly with the second half of the conger. "There," said the old man eagerly, "how much for that?" "Oh. I can't buy half a conger, Mr Luke Vine, sir; and I don't know as I'd have took it if it had been whole." "Then be off, and don't come bothering me," grunted the old man snappishly. "Don't be cross, master; you've no call to be. You never have no gashly troubles to worry you." "No, nor don't mean to have. What's the matter now?" "My gal!" "Serve you right. No business to have married. You never saw me make such a fool of myself."