The whole place suggested shipwreck and smugglers. Though little it was a tremendous bay, with mighty cliffs landward, and jutting ledges on either side, and forbidding rocks at the entrance, which waged continual warfare with the great Atlantic billows that rolled into it.
The tumble-down cottage was near the sea, not far from a little bay named Howlin Cove. Hence the migration to Ireland, where she had been born, and where she hoped to live economically.
She was the widow of an English clergyman, who had left her with a small family and the smallest income that was compatible with that family’s maintenance. Once upon a time-only once, observe, she did not do it twice-a widow of the name of Maylands went, in a fit of moderate insanity, and took up her abode in a lonely, tumble-down cottage in the west of Ireland.
