Lightly to the casement leaping,
Slily through the window peeping,
They a ghostly maid have seen.
To the oaken sill she clingeth,
And her wanlike hands she wringeth,
Then in garments white she wingeth
O’er the grassy plain so green.—E. P. Lee.
About three miles west of Allworth Abbey, upon a commanding hight near the sea-coast stood the Anchorage, the seat of Admiral Sir Ira Brunton. The park extended to the sea, and its western wall rose directly from the edge of the cliff, which formed a natural boundary to this extensive domain.
Immediately under this cliff nestled the little fishing village of Abbeyport, with its single street of cottages facing the sea, its small fleet of fishing-smacks drawn up to the shore, and its one humble tavern, called the Flagship, kept by Mr. Tom Tows, a retired boatswain, and patronized liberally by the kitchen cabinet of Admiral Sir Ira Brunton.
The Anchorage, was a large, square, gray edifice, three stories high, with two great halls crossing each other at right angles, and dividing each floor into four separate suites of apartments.