her. The village, in the valley and up the stream, was hidden by turns

of the land and trees; her father's house beneath the hill crest was out

of sight and hearing; not even a child was on the beach; and the only

movement was of wavelets leisurely advancing toward the sea-wall fringed

with tamarisk. The only thing she could hope to see was the happy return

of the fishing-smacks, and perhaps the "London trader," inasmuch as the

fishermen (now released from fencible duty and from French alarm) did

their best to return on Saturday night to their moorings, their homes,

the disposal of fish, and then the deep slumber of Sunday. If the breeze

should enable them to round the Head, and the tide avail for landing,

the lane to the village, the beach, and even the sea itself would swarm

with life and bustle and flurry and incident. But Dolly's desire was for

scenes more warlike and actors more august than these.

Beauty, however, has an eye for beauty beyond its own looking-glass.

Deeply as Dolly began to feel the joy of her own loveliness, she had

managed to learn, and to feel as well, that so far as the strength and

vigor of beauty may compare with its grace and refinement, she had

her own match at Springhaven. Quite a hardworking youth, of no social

position and no needless education, had such a fine countenance and such

bright eyes that she neither could bear to look at him nor forbear to

think of him. And she knew that if the fleet came home she would see him

on board of the Rosalie.

Flinging on a shelf the small white hat which had scarcely covered her

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