The Hermit of Far End

delight the white-topped billows hurling themselves against its migh

brine from the spray-drenched air. The cry of the wind, shrieking along the face of the sea-bitten cliff, reminded her of the scream of the hurrica

ng the expanse of restless, wind-tossed waters, before turning reluctantly in the direction of home. If for nothing else

ecame aware of a curious change of character in the sound of the wind. She was sheltered now from its fiercest onslaugh

ge betwixt the outbuildings of the house, then, as the chromatic wailing broke suddenly into vibrating h

, drawing nearer to the house, leaned against a shelter

ht, recognizing some of the haunting melodies of the wild Russian music which he was playing-music that

the

ve a man, dressed in the style of an indoor servant, who had appeared in the d

't you know you

her dreamy enjoyment, S

Cliff was private propert

d estate now-this is a private road," replied the ma

er the warm pallor of Sara's skin. Then,

t playing t

with the short, well-kept nails that any violinist needs must have-the cont

She felt certain he was lying, but he gave her no opportu

o move off from here. Tre

th a quiet ai

id. "I'm sorry. I had no id

tuition of his kind, he recognized in the composed l

able accession of civility, "but it's as much as my p

nod

g her steps towards the public road from which she had straye

on her return. "I trespassed on to the Far End property to-day, and was ignominiousl

nce or twice professionally. The fellow's all right, but he

the way, who is the violinist at F

," said Molly. "But no one has e

Sara shortly. "I should say

ression of impish am

to hear him play," she said, chuckling. "I even suggested that he might

he say?" asked

m what he meant, and he said that if I understood anything about music I would know, and t

ard that afternoon, she was conscious of a sudden quick sense of pity for the solitary hermit of Far End. He was

f to Rose Cottage to make the acquaintan

prigged with heliotrope, and round her neck a fichu of cobwebby lace, fastened at the breast with a cameo brooch of old Italian workmanship. A coquettish little lace cap adorned the silver-grey

rls arrived, and greeted Sara

iles and I. In a tiny place like Monkshaven, you see, every one knows ever

nyside to investigate me persona

d suddenly, a shadow falli

itatingly. "You will understand-his lameness makes him

oked di

f I had not come?" she suggested hastily

ia flushed

gnity. "Indeed, it is an excellent thing for him to be dragged out of his shell. Only, please-will you remember?-treat him exactly as though he

inctive man's pride which recoiled from any

caused by an acc

when they bolted, the coachman was thrown from the box, so that it looked as if nothing could save the occupants of the carriage. Miles flung himself at the horses' heads, and alth

ara warmly. "You must be very pr

ly affectionately. "Aren't

smiled a trif

our and remember only the heavy price. . . . My poor Miles was horribly injured-he had been dragged for yards, clinging to the

utside, and, a minute later, Miles Herrick himself came into the room, escorting a very fashi

neath upward-slanting brows, to which art had undoubtedly added something, glimmered a pair of greenish-grey eyes, clear like rain. Nor was there any mistaking the fact that the rich copper-colour of the hair swathed beneat

omething immensely likeable about Audrey Maynard. Behind it all, Sar

come of her innate desire for home and a mate. It is this which lies at the root of most of her little vanities and weaknesses-and of all the big sacrif

er her tea. "It was about the man who lives at Far End," she continued in reply to the Lavender Lady's smiling query. "Miles has been ver

st forty," interpo

him into silenc

of the deepest dye, hiding from justice-or, possibly, a Bluebeard wit

strange how the enigmatical personality of the o

own opinion, Mrs.

a keen glance from

a-sphinx," s

lady," objected He

ncarnation of her, then," ret

n, with whimsical brown eyes and the half-stern, half-sweet

fellow his due-he at least supplies the feminine ha

and another cushion-and finally sent Miles in search of some snapshots they had taken together and which he had developed since last they had met. She tr

ame man to wait upon her, yet, as she watched the eager way in which Miles responded to the visitor's behests, she realized that in reality Audre

d photos, Sara surprised a sudden ardent light in his quiet brown eyes that set her wondering whether possibly, the incessant sparrin