They passed her, laughing.

And look there, Nesta, see that groyne; that very one.' Mrs.Marsett pointed her whip hard out.

'The poor lady went down from the height here; she walked into that rough water look!--steadying herself along it, and she plunged; she never came out alive.

A week after her burial, Major Worrell--I 've told you enough.' 'We 'll gallop now,' said Nesta.
Mrs.Marsett's talk, her presence hardly less, affected the girl with those intimations of tumult shown upon smooth waters when the great elements are conspiring.

She felt that there was a cause why she had to pity, did pity her.