On account of certain questions connected with
race that will be raised in this narrative, I must dwell a little
while upon the child's personal appearance, and especially upon his
colour. Natural or acquired, it was one that might be almost called
unique; as much like a young Gypsy's colour as was compatible with
respectable descent, and yet not a Gypsy's colour. A deep undertone
of 'Romany brown' seemed breaking through that peculiar kind of ruddy
golden glow which no sunshine can give till it has itself been
deepened and coloured and enriched by the responsive kisses of the
sea.
Moreover, there was a certain something in his eyes that was not
Gypsy-like--a something which is not uncommonly seen in the eyes of
boys born along that coast, whether those eyes be black or blue or
grey; a something which cannot be described, but which seems like a
reflex of the daring gaze of that great land-conquering and daring
sea. Very striking was this expression as he momentarily turned his
face landward to watch one of the gulls that had come wheeling up the
cliffs towards the flinty grey tower of the church--the old deserted
church, whose graveyard the sea had already half washed away.
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