Cecil shook his yellow curls and set his mouth in droll imitation of his mother's determined look.
"Cannot be! Mother says we shall never have a tenant at the Point."
"Not till the sea gives up its dead," said Elinor, coming to the door and laying her arm about Cecil's shoulder.
At Mistress Calvert's approach Ingle bent forward with that unconscious deference which is the most subtle flattery, as though the soul stood at attention before its superior.
"Say no more, I pray you," said Elinor, "though I know you do speak but out of kindness and deep thoughtfulness for me. You have been hunting," she added, striving to turn the conversation.
"Ay, and have brought the spoils to lay at your feet," adding under his breath, "where my heart still lies."
Elinor colored and shook her head, but, feeling that refusal were ungracious, she took the ducks from his hand, stroked the plumage, and bade Cecil carry them to Bride.
Ingle watched Cecil disappear with the birds over his arm, then he leaned across the door near Elinor.
"You are more beautiful than ever," he said.
"I have outgrown the age of flatteries, Master Ingle. Beauty belongs to youth and joy, and both have left me forever."