She grew more restless, and began to talk more excitedly-- "Never! never!" she said, vehemently; "he shall never hear a word about the brig," and she went on then in a confidential whisper-- "Shall he, Gjert?
He shall find us in our berth, or else he will think we are afraid." Salve kissed her forehead tenderly, but with a sigh.

There had been a motive then, after all, at the bottom of that display of confidence which had occasioned him such pangs of self-reproach.
A couple of hours after he was on the way down to the sea to look at the brig.

The general aspect of the world about him was in harmony with his mood.

The wind whistled over the dreary sand-hills, whirling the sand in clouds in among the downs that stretched away like a storm-tossed sea into the distance, in every variety of desolate and jagged outline.

Upon the melancholy shore a sea-gull or two were circling round some old black stumps of wreck that protruded from the sand; while beyond lay the dismal expanse of the western sea, without a sail upon its leaden waste of waters, so shunned by all.