When dinner was over, my uncle carried me forth with him to a bank behind

the house. It was a very hot and quiet afternoon; scarce a ripple

anywhere upon the sea, nor any voice but the familiar voice of sheep and

gulls; and perhaps in consequence of this repose in nature, my kinsman

showed himself more rational and tranquil than before. He spoke evenly

and almost cheerfully of my career, with every now and then a reference

to the lost ship or the treasures it had brought to Aros. For my part, I

listened to him in a sort of trance, gazing with all my heart on that

remembered scene, and drinking gladly the sea-air and the smoke of peats

that had been lit by Mary.

Perhaps an hour had passed when my uncle, who had all the while been

covertly gazing on the surface of the little bay, rose to his feet and

bade me follow his example. Now I should say that the great run of tide

at the south-west end of Aros exercises a perturbing influence round all

the coast. In Sandag Bay, to the south, a strong current runs at certain

periods of the flood and ebb respectively; but in this northern bay--Aros

Bay, as it is called--where the house stands and on which my uncle was

now gazing, the only sign of disturbance is towards the end of the ebb,

and even then it is too slight to be remarkable. When there is any

swell, nothing can be seen at all; but when it is calm, as it often is,

there appear certain strange, undecipherable marks--sea-runes, as we may

name them--on the glassy surface of the bay. The like is common in a

thousand places on the coast; and many a boy must have amused himself as

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