I began to wonder if she were dead; her head was bent the whole time, watching the waves as they ran hurrying past.

Then the lady moon relented, and showed her fair face again; a flood of silver fell over the sea--each wave seemed to catch some of it, and break with a thousand ripples of light--the white cliffs caught it--it fell on the old pier, and the tall black figure stood out in bold relief against the moonlit sky.
I was almost startled when she turned round, and I saw her face quite plainly.

The same light that revealed her pretty little face and figure, threw a deeper shade over me.

She looked anxiously up and down, yet by a singular fatality never looked at the corner of the wooden building where I sat.

I have often wondered since that I did not cry out when I saw that face--so wonderfully beautiful, but so marble white, so sad, so intent, so earnest, the beautiful eyes wild with pain, the beautiful mouth quivering.