when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set, the vapor lost its whiteness and became ash gray, but it was not as dense as it had been, or rather it was compacted in places into thick masses with clear tracts between. The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs, but she could distinguish out-buildings, tufts of furze and hedges. The wind blew much stronger, and she could hear the boom of the waves against the rocks, like the throbbing of the unseen heart of the world. It was louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon the wind, for the fog that muffled all objects from sight, muffled also all sounds to the ear, but the boom came from the vibration of the land. The sea flung against the coast-line shook the rocks, and they quivered for a long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through the ears but through the soles of the feet.
Miss Trevisa came in.
"Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?"
"I thank you, hardly yet."
"And will you not eat?"
"Yes, presently, when supper is served."
"You will come down-stairs?"
"Yes."
"I am glad to hear that."
"Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage the day I came here."
"Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at once till you have settled down to your duties as mistress of the house."
"Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this large establishment."
"Why not? You managed that at the rectory."
"Yes, but it was so different."
"How so?"
"My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and so few, and there were no men about except old Balhachet, and he was a dear, good old humbug. Here, I don't know how many men there are, and who belong to the house, and who do not. They are in one day and out the next—and then Captain Coppinger is not like my own darling papa."
"No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I have something: to show you."
