‘Well, Charley, a niver was so taken aback as when a saw yo’ theere, like a ghost, a-standin’ agin a gravestone.  How white and wan yo’ do look!’

‘Ay!’ said he, wearily, ‘wan and weak enough.’

‘But I hope you’re getting better, sir,’ said Sylvia, in a low voice, longing to speak to him, and yet wondering at her own temerity.

‘Thank you, my lass.  I’m o’er th’ worst.’

He sighed heavily.

Philip now spoke.

‘We’re doing him no kindness a-keeping him standing here i’ t’ night-fall, and him so tired.’  And he made as though he would turn away.  Kinraid’s two sailor friends backed up Philip’s words with such urgency, that, somehow, Sylvia thought they had been to blame in speaking to him, and blushed excessively with the idea.

‘Yo’ll come and be nursed at Moss Brow, Charley,’ said Molly; and Sylvia dropped her little maidenly curtsey, and said, ‘Good-by;’ and went away, wondering how Molly could talk so freely to such a hero; but then, to be sure, he was a cousin, and probably a sweetheart, and that would make a great deal of difference, of course.

Meanwhile her own cousin kept close by her side.

CHAPTER VII

TETE-A-TETE.—­THE WILL

‘And now tell me all about th’ folk at home?’ said Philip, evidently preparing to walk back with the girls.  He generally came to Haytersbank every Sunday afternoon, so Sylvia knew what she had to expect the moment she became aware of his neighbourhood in the churchyard.

’My feyther’s been sadly troubled with his rheumatics this week past; but he’s a vast better now, thank you kindly.’  Then, addressing herself to Molly, she asked, ’Has your cousin a doctor to look after him?’

‘Ay, for sure!’ said Molly, quickly; for though she knew nothing about the matter, she was determined to suppose that her cousin had everything becoming an invalid as well as a hero.  ’He’s well-to-do, and can afford everything as he needs,’ continued she.  ’His feyther’s left him money, and he were a farmer out up in Northumberland, and he’s reckoned such a specksioneer as never, never was, and gets what wage he asks for and a share on every whale he harpoons beside.’

’I reckon he’ll have to make himself scarce on this coast for awhile, at any rate,’ said Philip.

‘An’ what for should he?’ asked Molly, who never liked Philip at the best of times, and now, if he was going to disparage her cousin in any way, was ready to take up arms and do battle.

‘Why, they do say as he fired the shot as has killed some o’ the men-o’-war’s men, and, of course, if he has, he’ll have to stand his trial if he’s caught.’

‘What lies people do say!’ exclaimed Molly.  ’He niver killed nought but whales, a’ll be bound; or, if he did, it were all right and proper as he should, when they were for stealing him an’ all t’ others, and did kill poor Darley as we come fra’ seeming buried.  A suppose, now yo’re such a Quaker that, if some one was to break through fra’ t’ other side o’ this dyke and offer for to murder Sylvia and me, yo’d look on wi’ yo’r hands hanging by yo’r side.’