But she turned away. "Then stay on your rock," she flashed out; "I want more."
He came up to her and laid his hand on her arm.
"What do you want?" he asked.
She looked at him and seeing tears in his eyes, she turned away sullenly. "I don't know," she answered, "but I want life—more'n what the sea brings me."
Then suddenly she broke from him and darted into the twilight.
CHAPTER VI
THE FIGURE-HEAD GAINS AN ADMIRER
The field where old David put the cows to pasture lay a comparatively short distance from the house, in the direction of the bay. But Rachel, leading a large white cow by a rope, had elected to go round by "the barn."
"Come along, Betty," she cried, as she turned into the main road dragging the surprised animal after her.
A dense fog obscured every landmark. Looking backward, she could just discern the placid light of the cow's eyes below the sickle of its horns; looking downward, she could make out her own feet and the stalks of grass and flowers beside the road. Moisture clung to the grass in pendant beads, and there was a fugitive flash of colour here and there close to the ground. All else was sheeted in the white pall. Groups of firs looked like spectres, the bushes covered with fluffs of mist looked like phantoms; Rachel herself appeared like a ghost.