"I never saw it half as rough; never: but it has not been my privilege to live near the sea," he answered. "Are you sure it is safe for you to sit here, Ethel?" "Oh yes. I am ever so far from the edge, you see." "I do not know," he doubtingly answered; "the blast is strong. Mr. and Mrs. Castlemaine might warn you away, did they see you here." As if to impart weight to his words, a furious gust came sweeping along and over them. Ethel caught involuntarily to the hard ground, and bent her head down. Mr. North hastily put his arm round her for protection. "You see, Ethel!" he spoke when the rush had subsided. "It is dangerous for you. Had I not been here, you might have been blown away." "No, no; but--perhaps--I should not have remained after that. I do not think it was ever so fiercely rough." As he was there, however, and holding her securely, she made no movement to go. Ah, how could she! was it not all too delicious!--bliss unutterable!--and the wind was such an excuse. In after years, whether for her they might be long or short, Ethel would never lose the remembrance of this hour. The panorama of that turbulent sea would be one of her mind's standing pictures; the clasp of his arm never cease, when recalled, to cause her heart to thrill. They sat on, close together, speaking but a stray word now and then, for it was nearly as difficult to hear anything said as it would have been for deaf Sister Mildred. By-and-by, as if the wind wanted a temporary rest, its worst fury seemed abated. "I wonder if I could sketch the sea?" cried Mr. North. "Perhaps I could: if you will help me to hold the book, Ethel." He had his small sketch-book in his pocket: indeed he rarely went out without it: and he drew it forth. Ethel held the leaves down on one side the opened page, and he on the other: with his other hand he rapidly took the lines of the horizon before him, and depicted the mountainous billows of the raging sea. Just a few bold strokes--and: he left the rest to be filled in at a calmer season. "Thank you that is enough," he said to Ethel. But it took both their efforts to close the book again securely. The wind had all but torn its pages out; a lawful prey. "There are people existing who hate never seen the sea," remarked Ethel. "I wonder if they can form even a faint conception of the scene it presents on such a day as this?" "Thousands and thousands have never seen it," said Mr. North. "Perhaps millions, taking the world from Pole to Pole." Ethel laughed at a thought that came to her. "Do you know, Mr. North, there is an old woman at Stilborough who has never seen it. She has never in her life been as far as Greylands--only three miles." "It is scarcely believable."