"Look at that white horse down there! See how he rears his head and plunges forward. Ah, he has had enough! No, he's coming on again with a roar!"
"But look at the sea-holly and the wild thyme! And the rabbits scuttling into their holes! And the goats on the peaks of the cliffs!"
"Lord! What a jolly old world it is, though!"
"Didn't you say that before, Victor?"
"Did I? Well, I'm going to say it every blessed day of my life to come."
"No, no! Take care! We're on the edge of the cliff. We'll be over!"
"No matter—another kiss!"
The wind was from the south, and the sea, breaking along the broken line of the coast, was making a sound like that of the ringing of bells. It was the phenomenon of nature which gave rise to the tradition that a town lies buried under the sea at that point, so that Manx fishermen, coming back from their fishing-ground at sunrise, will sometimes say, "The wedding bells are ringing!"
Stowell heard them now, over the roar of the waves in their mad welter, and he cried,
"Listen to the bells!"