he recalled the sunny day when old Jacob first rowed him under the cliffs and he heard July's voice for the first time ringing in the summer air over his head. A sudden gust of wind and driving rain woke him from his dream, and he was turning back to reach the path when, in the dusk of the growing twilight, he caught sight of a lonely figure coming up the rude steps hewn in the rock below him. There was a short cut this way up from the lower end of the village, but in such a rough night as this he almost wondered any one should care to attempt it. The tide was high, and the waves dashed over the rocks and broke into a cloud of white foam at his feet. Their salt spray flew up in his face as he bent over the edge of the cliff and watched the solitary figure battling with the wind and rain. It was hard to see anything clearly with this mist of spray and rain in his face, but in the darkening light he was able to distinguish what he took for a rough blue woollen shirt, such as the men and boys of the place wear, and satisfied himself that the struggling figure must be one of the Glenarva fisher-boys. As it came nearer he saw that he had been wrong, for the form muffled in this woollen garb was plainly that of a girl. He advanced a few steps down the steep path to give her, if need be, a helping hand; and as another fierce gust of wind thought you never meant to set foot here any more. Although what I'd done to be treated so, neither I nor any one else in the town can tell. It's hard, very hard, after all these years, and when Robin has worked so well, and no one can say a word again' him, I'll be bound, although I say it as shouldn't say it. At first I thought I'd fret myself to death a'most, and I'd have gone right away to the Squire myself, but folks says as how he was ill, so I stayed away. And Master Algy, who's so fond of Robin and all—' Here her grief overcame her, and she sobbed outright. Presently, however, she recovered sufficiently to pour out a whole torrent of passionate words into July's ear as she stood in the little parlour where she had so often heard Lettice boasting of her loyalty to the Squire and his family. She had little to say in return, and could only ask how Bobby was and if Robin had found some work. "Nothing reg'lar, that's the worst on it," said Lettice, shaking her head sadly; "he does a bit of sawing here, and works first a few days for one and then a few for another. To be sure, there was the place at Farmer Trevenen's for which the young Squire spoke for him, but if he'd gone there we must have all gone too-right across the bay, and that was more than I could bear, seeing I've been born and bred a Glenarva woman." As for Bobby, he was very middling, and lay there on his bed a-tossing about like the boats on a rough sea. Would Miss July step up and speak to him? The sight of her would cheer him up a bit, and maybe he'd be more contented like afterwards and lie stiller. Juliet had little faith in the good effect of her visit on the sick child, but she could not refuse to comply with Lettice's wish, and followed her upstairs to the room where poor little Bobby lay moaning on his pillow with heavy eyes and flushed face. Come, cheer up, Bobby, and don't look so downcast, my man," began his mother, in her cheeriest tones. "Here's a visitor come to see you. Now just look and see; you'll never guess who it is-Miss July herself! Bless the lad! he hasn't clean forgotten her already?" she said as the poor little fellow raised his head of tangled locks from his pillow and looked round him with a puzzled, bewildered air. "Never mind, Lettice; don't tease him-poor little Bobby!" said Juliet, taking his hand tenderly and laying her cool fingers on his hot brow. She shook his pillow up for him, smoothed down the bedclothes, and held the cup of milk which stood. on the chest of drawers at his side to his lips. He drank greedily, and Lettice observed |