'Gods of Olympus! Oh! if it should be _her_ child and _mine_!'
Engaged in the selection of pebbles, she did not observe the approach of Mr. Holwood; and the rush of the inflowing wave, and the under rattle of the retreat, as the water drew the shingle after it, served to drown the footfall.
When he addressed her, she was taken by surprise, and started.
He saw before him a tall, handsome girl, flushed with her walk, with dark hair slightly dispersed by the wind from the sea, with hale cheeks, brown, agate-like, honest eyes, fresh flexible lips, and a well-moulded lower jaw and chin.
'Why are you picking and choosing among the stones?' he asked.
'Please, sir, I be looking for chalcedony.'
'You should say _I am_ and not _I be_. But let that pass. Chalcedony――――'
'And jasper; what do you know about them? Are you deficient in grammar and a proficient in mineralogy?'
Winefred looked at him with an odd expression of perplexity and humour in her brown eyes and a dimple forming in one cheek.
Now he saw that she had the eyes and features of Jane, but there was in her face something more――a reminiscence of a dearly loved and lost sister, who had been his companion in boyhood, his _confidante_, but who had died of decline just as she attained the age of this child.
'Tell me, my girl, what is your name?' There was a catch in his voice as he asked the question.
'Marley. That is what my mother is called.'
He paused before speaking again. A warm flow, as from a broken vein, suffused his heart. He would have liked to clasp the child to him and have said, 'I am your father, kiss me, put your arms about me and let me cry.' But he dared not do so.
'Will you sit by me on this rock and tell me about these pebbles? I do not understand. Why do you gather them? What is done with them?'
She at once took the place indicated, without shyness, with no awkwardness. But he did not seat himself, he stood leaning against the larger bulk of the chalky mass so that he might study her face as she spoke.
'Please, sir, they are chalcedony. Sometimes I get moss agates.'
'I understand. But I protest, to my uninitiated eyes they look vastly uninteresting.'
'If wet and held to the light you can see through them and note markings in them; if I find some of good colour and very clear, with veins and silklike twists, then the gentlefolk buy them.'