sails flapping, three miles out, and waited for the dark to get the sweeps, I took my glass to scan the coast-line, and lo, there on the tomb-top sits Master Trenchard. I could not see his face, but knew him by his cut, and fear the boy sits there to play the spy, and then tells Maskew."
"You're right," said Greening of Ringstave, for I knew his slow drawl; "and many a time when I have sat in the Wood, and watched the Manor to see Maskew safe at home before we ran a cargo, I have seen this boy too go round about the place with a hangdog look, scanning the house as if his life depended on't."
'Twas very true what Greening said; for of a summer evening I would take the path that led up Weatherbeech Hill, behind the Manor, both because 'twas a walk that had a good prospect in itself, and also a sweet charm for me—namely, the hope of seeing Grace Maskew. And there I often sat upon the stile that ends the path and opens on the down, and watched the old half-ruined house below; and sometimes saw white-frocked Gracie walking on the terrace in the evening sun, and sometimes in returning passed her window near enough to wave a greeting. And once, when she had the fever, and Dr. Hawkins came twice a day to see her, I had no heart for school, but sat on that stile the livelong day, looking at the gabled house where she was lying ill. And Mr. Glennie never rated me for playing truant, nor told Aunt Jane, guessing, as I thought afterwards, the cause, and having once been young himself. 'Twas but boy's love, yet serious for me; and on the day she lay near death I made so bold as to stop Dr. Hawkins on his horse and ask him how she did; and he, bearing
