The sun hung now a round, red globe upon the very brink of the sea.
"Hereafter he may have little cause to thank me," muttered he.

"Come, Mistress Cynthia, it grows late." She rose in mechanical obedience, and together they retraced their steps in silence, save for the stray word exchanged at intervals touching matters of no moment.
But he had not advocated Kenneth's cause in vain, for all that he little recked what his real argument had been, what influences he had evoked to urge her to make her peace with the lad.

A melancholy listlessness of mind possessed her now.

Crispin did not see, never would see, what was in her heart, and it might not be hers to show him.

The life that might have signified was not to be lived, and since that was so it seemed to matter little what befell.
It was thus that when on the morrow her father returned to the subject, she showed herself tractable and docile out of her indifference, and to Gregory she appeared not averse to listen to what he had to advance in the boy's favour.