The spot chosen for the chowder-party commanded a splendid sea view and a broad landscape in the background, of which the distant mansion of Piney Cove was a principal object. It was an abrupt precipice, clothed, except in the very front, with a rich growth of trees; splendid masses of white pine and clumps of hemlock darkened with the deep green of their foliage such forest trees as cast their leaves from autumn till spring time. The broken precipice in front was tufted here and there with clumps of barberry bushes and other wild shrubs, which might have aided a daring adventurer to climb up it, had the temptation been sufficient.
Between this precipice and the shores of the ocean, stood the little tavern we have before spoken of, from which the negroes of Piney Point were now bringing up a huge iron pot wherein to cook the chowder, which would be nothing if not culminated in the open air, over a fire of sticks, and eaten beneath the hemlock trees.
A bridle path led to the top of this precipice, winding along the back slope of the hill, and by this route the highway party rode to the summit, some fifteen minutes before Elizabeth and Mr. North joined them. Whatever evil feelings had sprung up on the road, at least a majority of the company resolved to enjoy themselves now. Jemima entered heart and soul into the preparations, keeping a sharp eye on her father all the time. He, poor man, scarcely required her vigilance, for when a chowder was to be concocted, the stout man forgot all his gallant weaknesses, and gave his whole being up to the important subject.
Mrs. Harrington had no great talent for cookery, and feeling beaten and awed by Jemima's dashing generalship, hovered around the outskirts of the preparations, and flirting a little with Hawkins, from languid habit, rather than any special regard for the young gentleman.
CHAPTER XVIII.
FACE TO FACE.
During the bustle of these preparations, Elizabeth, Mr. North and Elsie had dropped out of the party and wandered off, no doubt, into the shady places of the woods; no one had observed how or where they went. Hawkins had been with Elsie at first, but she had sent him down a ravine for some tinted ash leaves, and when he came back to the stone on which she had been sitting, it was vacant. Probably she had become tired of waiting, and had gone in search of the forest leaves herself; as for Mrs. Mellen and North, of course they were all right somewhere, and would be on hand safe enough when the chowder was ready.
While Mrs. Harrington and Hawkins were talking in this idle fashion, they sat on a large ledge of rock that crowned the very brink of the precipice; and chancing to look down, saw two persons near the foot moving towards the tavern. One they recognised, even from that distance, to be Mr. North, for his tall, grand figure was not to be mistaken. The other was a lady; the dark riding-dress and floating plumes might belong to any female of the party, there was no individuality in a dress like that. The couple had evidently found some passage down the brow of the precipice, for it would have been impossible to reach the spot where they stood by any other route.
"Well," said Mrs. Harrington, "if that isn't a sly proceeding; what on earth does it mean? How Mrs. Mellen can drag her long skirts down that hill, just to look at a common tavern, which she's seen a hundred times, I cannot imagine."