CHAPTER XIII.
The Background of the Dream.
Lesbia, however, did not recover her spirits that day, and she asked her uncle to send a postcard home, announcing their safe arrival, as she did not feel up to writing a letter. As they sat together at their evening meal she said, breaking a long silence,—
‘Uncle Spines, to-morrow’s my birthday, and I want you to do something for my diversion; you must take me across the harbour to that village they call Whitegate; we can see it from here. From that place we can walk up to Roche’s Tower, and see Roche’s Point too, if we have time and think it worth the trouble. But up to the lighthouse I must go; it’s been on my mind even more than parting from Lettie. I have felt something drawing me to that spot ever since I first saw it from the deck of the steamer as we came in from England, though I really don’t know what there is to see when we get there, except perhaps a fine stretch of ocean coast.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know either, Lesbie,’ replied her uncle; ‘but since your heart’s set upon it, we'll go the first thing to-morrow, weather permitting. It’s to be hoped we shall have it clearer than to-day, because Roche’s Tower in such a mist as we saw it this afternoon would be a dismal pilgrimage indeed. However, I should not grumble at that if only it led to your collaring the foul fiend and chucking
