About a mile on the farther side of Kesterwick, that is, two miles or so from Titheburgh Abbey, the cliff jutted out into the sea in a way that corresponded very curiously with the little promontory known as Dum’s Ness, the reason of its resistance to the action of the waves being that it was at this spot composed of an upcrop of rock of a more durable nature than the sandstone and pebbles of the remainder of the line of cliff. Just at the point of this promontory the waves had worn a hollow in the rock that was locally dignified by the name of the Cave. For two hours or more at high tide this hollow was under water, and it was, therefore, impossible to pass the headland except by boat; but during the rest of the day it formed a convenient grotto or trysting-place, the more so as anybody sitting in it was quite invisible either from the beach, the cliff above, or indeed, unless the boat was quite close in shore, the sea in front. Here it was that Ernest had arranged to meet Eva, and on turning the rocky corner of the cave he found her sitting on a mass of fallen rock waiting for him. At the sight of her beautiful form he forgot all his troubles, and when rising to greet him, blushing like the dawn, she lifted her pure face for him to kiss, there was not a happier lad in England. Then she made room for him beside her—the rock was just wide enough for two—and he placed his arm round her waist, and for a minute or two she laid her head upon his shoulder, and they were very happy. “You are early,” he said at last. “Yes; I wanted to get away from Florence and have a good think. You have no idea how unpleasant she is; she seems to know everything. For instance, she knew that we went out sailing together last evening, for this morning at breakfast she said in the most cheerful way that she hoped that I enjoyed my moonlight sail last night.” “The deuce she did! and what did you say?” “I said that I enjoyed it very much, and luckily my aunt did not take any notice.” “Why did you not say at once that we were engaged? We _are_ engaged, you know.” “Yes—that is, I suppose so.” “Suppose so! There is no supposition about it. At least, if we are not engaged, what are we?” “Well, you see, Ernest, it sounds so absurd to say that one is engaged to a boy! I love you, Ernest, love you dearly, but how can I say that I am engaged to you?” Ernest rose in great wrath. “I tell you what it is, Eva, if I am not good enough to acknowledge, I am not good enough to have anything to do with. A boy, indeed! I am one-and-twenty; that is full age. Confound it all! you are always talking about my being so young, just as though I should not get old fast enough. Can’t you wait for me a year or two?” he asked, with tears of mortification in his eyes.