In the evening he strolled out and made his way to the cliffs. It
was twilight when he reached the place of rocks to which the fancy-
loving Cornish folk had given the name of the Witches' Cauldron.
It was from this spot that he had first watched Mivanway coming to
him from the sea.
He took the pipe from his mouth, and leaning against a rock, whose
rugged outline seemed fashioned into the face of an old friend,
gazed down the narrow pathway now growing indistinct in the dim
light. And as he gazed the figure of Mivanway came slowly up the
pathway from the sea, and paused before him.
He felt no fear. He had half expected it. Her coming was the
complement of his dreams. She looked older and graver than he
remembered her, but for that the face was the sweeter.
He wondered if she would speak to him, but she only looked at him
with sad eyes; and he stood there in the shadow of the rocks
without moving, and she passed on into the twilight.
Had he on his return cared to discuss the subject with his
landlord, had he even shown himself a ready listener--for the old
man loved to gossip--he might have learnt that a young widow lady
named Mrs.
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