“From that hill you look right down upon the sea,” said Mrs. Bazalgette; “what do you say? It is only two miles farther.”
On they cantered, and, leaving the high road, dived into a green lane which led them, by a gradual ascent, to Mariner's Folly on the summit of the cliff. Mariner's Folly looked at a distance like an enormous bush in the shape of a lion; but, when you came nearer, you saw it was three remarkably large blackthorn-trees planted together. As they approached it at a walk, Mrs. Bazalgette told Mr. Talboys its legend.
“These trees were planted a hundred and fifty years ago by a retired buccaneer.”
“Aunt, now, it was only a lieutenant.”
“Be quiet, Lucy, and don't spoil me; I call him a buccaneer. Some say it is named his “Folly,” because, you must know, his ghost comes and sits here at times, and that is an absurd practice, shivering in the cold. Others more learned say it comes from a Latin word 'folio,' or some such thing, that means a leaf; the mariner's leafy screen.” She then added with reckless levity, “I wonder whether we shall find Buckey on the other side, looking at the ships through a ghostly telescope—ha! ha!—ah! ah! help! mercy! forgive me! Oh, dear, it is only Mr. Dodd in his jacket—you frightened me so. Oh! oh! There—I am ill. Catch me, somebody;” and she dropped her whip, and, seeing David's eye was on her, subsided backward with considerable courage and trustfulness, and for the second time contrived to be in her flirtee's arms.
I wish my friend Aristotle had been there; I think he would have been pleased at her [Greek] (presence of mind) in turning even her terror of the supernatural so quickly to account, and making it subservient to flirtation.
David sat heart-stricken and hopeless, gazing at the sea. The hours passed by his heavy heart unheeded. The leafy screen deadened the light sound of the horses' feet on the turf, and, moreover, his senses were all turned inward. They were upon him, and he did not move, but still held his head in his hands and gazed upon the sea. At Mrs. Bazalgette's cries he started up, and looked confusedly at them all; but, when she did the feinting business, he thought she was going to faint, and caught her in his arms; and, holding her in them a moment as if she had been a child, he deposited her very gently in a sitting posture at the foot of one of the trees, and, taking her hand, slapped it to bring her to.
“Oh, don't! you hurt me,” cried the lady in her natural voice.
Lucy, barbarous girl, never came to her aunt's assistance. At the first fright she seemed slightly agitated, but she now sat impassive on her pony, and even wore a satirical smile.
“Now, dear aunt, when you have done, Mr. Dodd will put you on your horse again.”