"No, my love. But--this cold air comes wondrous keen across my bosom," said he, looking wistfully on the child, who, scarcely knowing why, threw her little arms about his neck, and wept. "My dream, I fear, hath strange omens in it," said the lady thoughtfully. The same red star shot fiercely up from the dusky horizon; the same bright beam was on the wave; and the mysterious incidents of the fisherman's hut came like a track of fire across Harrington's memory. "Yonder is that strange woman again that has troubled us about the house these three days," said Mrs Harrington, looking out from the balcony; "we forbade her yesterday. She comes hither with no good intent." Harrington looked over the balustrade. A female stood beside a pillar, gazing intently towards him. Her eye caught his own; it was as if a basilisk had smitten him. Trembling, yet fascinated, he could not turn away his glance; a smile passed on her dark-red visage--a grin of joy at the discovery. "Surely," thought he, "'tis not the being who claims my child!" But the woman drew something from her hand, which, at that distance, Harrington recognised as his pledge. His lady saw not the signal; without speaking, he obeyed. Hastening down-stairs, a private audience confirmed her demand, which the miserable Harrington durst not refuse. Two days he was mostly in private. Business with the steward was the ostensible motive. He had sent an urgent message to his friend Molyneux, who, on the third day, arrived at H----, where they spent many hours in close consultation. The following morning Grace came running in after breakfast. She flung her arms about his neck. "Let me not leave you to-day," she sobbed aloud. "Why, my love?" said Harrington, strangely disturbed at the request. "I do not know!" replied the child, pouting. "To-day I ride out with Sir Ralph to the Meer, and as thou hast often wished--because it was forbidden, I guess--thou shalt ride with us a short distance; I will toss thee on before me, and away we'll gallop--like the Prince of Trebizond on the fairy horse." "And shall we see the mermaid?" said the little maiden quickly, as though her mind had been running on the subject. "I wish the old nurse would not put such foolery in the girl's head," said Mrs Harrington impatiently. "There be no mermaids now, my love." "What! not the mermaid of Martin Meer?" inquired the child, seemingly disappointed. Harrington left the room, promising to return shortly. The morning was dull, but the afternoon broke out calm and bright. Grace was all impatience for the ride; and Rosalind, the favourite mare, looked more beautiful than ever in her eyes. She bounded down the terrace at the first sound of the horses' feet, leaving Mrs Harrington to follow. The cavaliers were already mounted, but the child suddenly drew back. "Come, my love," said Harrington, stretching out his hand; "look how your pretty Rosalind bends her neck to receive you."