The boat reached the little bay under the Black Rock. There was no need to drag her far up the beach now, for the tide was full. Working in silence, the three men laid her beside the broad-bottomed cobble used for working the salmon-net, and pushed her bow up against the coarse grass which fringed the edge of the rocks. They carried the oars and sails into a fisherman’s shelter perched on a rock beside the bay. Then Donald Ward turned to Maurice and said—
“I am going to my brother’s house. I shall walk by the path along the cliffs, and my nephew will go with me. Your way home, unless I have entirely forgotten the roads, is not our way. We part here, therefore. I bid you good night, and thank you heartily.”
“We had intended,” said Maurice, “to walk home with Neal. We have time enough.”
His sister, quicker than he to take a hint, pulled him by the arm, and whispered to him. Then she spoke aloud.
“Good night, Mr. Donald Ward. Good night, Neal. Perhaps we shall see you to-morrow.”
The uncle and nephew climbed the hill which led to the top of the cliffs together. For a time neither of them spoke. The elder man seemed to be absorbed in picking out the landmarks which had once been very familiar to him. At last he spoke to Neal.
“Does your father wish you to have Lord Dun-severic’s son and daughter for your friends?”
Neal hesitated for a moment, and then answered.
“He knows that they are my friends.”
“It would be better if they were not your friends. I have heard of Lord Dunseveric, a strong man and an able man, a good friend of his own class, not a good friend of the people.”