'I did.'
'I cannot bear to see her set sail, and I cannot bear not to. That is why I am up here. In another hour the tide will turn and she will go. I cannot bear to look at the sea, even, and I cannot bear not to. All my life slipping away from me. Pigs, calves, lambs. Twenty acres ploughed. And yonder'—the boy's eyes sought the west—'uncharted seas to cross, lands to explore, fortunes to find; the great, great world. No one knows how big the world is. And I shall never know because my mother weeps and bids me wait—wait. Do you know what the sea is like when it calls?'
The girl's face was turned away.
'Really, Roger,' she said lightly, after a moment's pause. 'How old are you? I should know, for there are but twelve months between us. Eighteen and a half, are you? And you say your life is slipping away. You are truly laughable. You might be an old man of thirty. Patience, Roger!' she went on, her voice deepening a little. 'What guarantee have you from fate that what has happened must continue so to happen—that life must needs go on for ever as it is now? Patience for another little while! Who knows what fortune, what great fortune, is awaiting you? What adventure, what discoveries, what honours? And how worth while the little waiting will have been! A ship seven times fairer than the Fair Return—nay, seven ships. Seven uncharted seas to cross—nay, seven worlds to sail round!' She laughed a brave little laugh, and the youth turned his eyes from the sea and his discontent.... 'I should like to shake you! Now come along with me to old Mother Poole's. I have a dozen of eggs and one of Curnow's spiced cakes for her in this basket, to comfort her somewhat for the departure of that rascal of a son.'
Roger sprang to his feet and drew a long breath. 'And if I have seven ships, they shall all be called Marion. You always put heart in me, little Mawfy. You are wiser than I.'
The girl made a grimace. 'I feel as old as Aunt Keziah this minute, but don't make me also feel I should wear cassock and bands, sir.'
Turning inland, the two walked slowly across the hill.
'So Mistress Penrock has gone away,' said Roger. 'I'm very glad. I am mortally afraid of your Aunt Keziah, although I only saw her once, when she was walking with the Admiral. Where is she going to stay now?'
'At Bath, where she says she will hear a little of the world, and not be dependent on a news sheet. How we live in this monstrously dull hole she cannot conceive. She said so her last night at supper.'
'And your father?'