“All right,” said Thornton, “how long can you give us?”

“Twenty minutes at the most,” said the boatman, “and you will only just have time to mount the cliff and come back.”

I heard an indistinct, dull murmur, half of the sea and half of the wind, and, looking far out to sea, could fancy I saw little white sheep on the waves.  We left Glenville with Hawkstone talking and smoking.  They were really great friends, although in such different ranks in life.  Glenville used to rave about him as a true specimen of the old Devon rover.  He was a tall, well-proportioned man, with a clear, open face, very ruddy with sun and wind and rough exercise, a very pleasant smile, and grey eyes, rather piercing and deep set.  The brow was fine, and the features regular, though massive.  The hair and beard were brown and rough-looking, but his manner was gentle, and had that peculiar courtesy which makes many a Devon man a gentleman and many a Devon lass a lady, let them be of ever so humble an origin.

Barton paired off with the younger Miss Delamere, Thornton with the elder.  Mrs. Bagshaw and I followed, conversing cheerfully of many things.  I found her a very entertaining and agreeable lady, accomplished, frank, and amiable.  There was nothing at all peculiar either in her appearance or conversation.  While I was talking to her I kept wondering whether her outbreaks of temper were the result of some real or supposed cause of jealousy, or were to be attributed solely to a chronic feeling of irritability against her husband.  In the course of our walk together Mrs. Bagshaw said to me—­

“Your friend, Mr. Thornton, is evidently very much smitten with Florence Delamere.”

“Yes, I think so,” I replied, “but I daresay nothing will come of it.  Her family would not like it, I suppose; for, you know, they are of a good family in Norfolk, and Thornton is only the son of a grocer.”

“I did not know that,” she said, “but I have thought your friend had not quite the manners of the class to which the Delameres clearly belong.  Mrs. Delamere is perhaps not anyone in particular, and she certainly talks overmuch upon subjects which probably she does not understand.  The young ladies are most agreeable and lady-like, and I think Mr. Thornton has found that out.  It is easy to see that objections to any engagement would be of the gravest sort—­indeed, I imagine, insurmountable.  It is most unfortunate that this should happen when the young man is away from his parents, who might guide him out of the difficulty.  I think Mrs. Delamere is aware of the attachment, and is not inclined to favour it.  Do you think you could influence your friend in any way?  You will do him a great service if you can warn him of his danger; if he does not attend to you, you might tell Mr. Porkington, and consult with him.”

I promised to follow her advice as well as I could, for I felt that it was both kindly meant and reasonable, although I felt myself rather too young to be entangled in such matters.