"No: but it is true. It is old Mrs. Fordham. Her two daughters kept a cotton and tape shop in New Street. They sell fishing-tackle, too, and writing-paper, and many other things. If you choose to go and ask Mrs. Fordham, for yourself, she would tell you she has never had the curiosity to come as far as as this to see the sea." "But why?" "For no reason, she says, except that she has always been a great stay-at-home. She had a good many children for one thing, and they took up all the time of her best years." "I should like to charter a gig and bring the old lady to see it to-day," exclaimed Mr. North. "I wonder whether she would be astonished?" "She would run away frightened," said Ethel, laughing. "Will you please to tell me what the time is?" He took out his watch. It was past twelve o'clock; and Ethel had to go. Mr. North drew her hand within his arm, seemingly as a matter of course, remarking that he must pilot her down the cliff. Ethel's face was covered with blushes. She was too timid to withdraw her hand: but she thought what would become of her should Mr. or Mrs. Castlemaine meet them. Or even Madame! So they went on arm-in-arm. "Should I make anything of this sketch," said Mr. North, touching his pocket that contained the book; "anything of a watercolour I mean, it shall be yours, if you accept it. A memento of this morning." "Thank you," murmured Ethel, her lovely face all blushes again. "You will think of me perhaps when you look at it--once in a way. I may be far away: divided from you by sea and land." "Are you going so soon?" she stammered. "I fear I shall have to go eventually. The--the business that is keeping me here does not advance at all; neither does it seem likely to." "Is business keeping you here?" "Yes." "I had no idea of that. Of what nature?" "It is partly connected with property." "The property that you told me might come to you by inheritance?" "Yes. The coming seems very far off, though; farther than ever: and I--I am doing myself no good by staying." "No good!" exclaimed Ethel, in surprise. "In one sense I am not: individually, I am not. For, each day that I stay will only serve to render the pain of departing more intolerable." Their eyes met. Ethel was at no loss to understand. Whether he meant her to or not he could scarcely have decided. But for exercising some self-control, he must have spoken out plainly. And yet, to what end? This fair girl might never become more to him than she was now, and their mutual love would be flung away to die on the shoals of adverse fate; as three parts of first love is in this world. He released her when they were on level ground, and walked side by side with her as far as Chapel Lane, Ethel's way home to-day. There they stood to shake hands. "I wonder if we shall ever again sit together watching a sea such as this has been!" he said, retaining her hand, and gazing down at her conscious face. "We do not get a sea like this above once or twice a year."