BERYL ACTS THE PART OF A HEROINE
BERYL knew not what to do with herself after Miss Burton's departure.
Miss Hollys tried to be kind to her niece; but her well-meant attempts
to cheer and amuse the child only irritated Beryl. She would wander
listlessly about the house, unable to settle to any occupation, and
feeling as restless and unhappy as a girl can feel. Her aunt hinted
that she would probably be sent to school in the course of a few weeks,
a prospect which did not tend to raise Beryl's spirits.
One day Beryl roused herself from her moodiness, and started for a
long walk. She had been thinking of Mr. Gilbank, and the words he had
said to her when she had asked him how one could have peace in the
heart when one's life seemed to be going all wrong. She knew that if
her friend could speak to her now he would say, as he had said then,
that she must trust God, her Father, and believe that He loved her,
although He had permitted these changes that she found so hard to
bear. The child was learning a lesson that no one, old or young, finds
easy to learn—the lesson that God's love is as real and great when
clouds shadow our pathway, as it is when we walk in sunshine. But with
the first glimpse of the truth, leading her to look up to God with
childlike trust and love, a feeling of sweet peace came to her heart.
Beryl walked along the shore as far as Sheldon Point. The day was
bright, and though the wind blew high, it was not very cold. Beryl
enjoyed contending with the boisterous breeze, which brought a warm
glow of colour to her cheeks.
There were some children playing on the rocks beneath the Point,
and Beryl lingered for a few minutes to watch their play. They were
jumping from rock to rock, as the outgoing tide receded, and urging
each other forward to one daring feat after another. It was not a
very safe amusement, for the rocks were here and there slimed with
slippery seaweed, and below them the sea flowed deep; but the children
were accustomed to climb about the rocks, and had no sense of danger.
Beryl had often performed such feats herself, and she did not think it
necessary to utter a word of warning.
But suddenly she was startled by a shrill cry, followed by a great
splash. A little boy of five, moved by an adventurous spirit beyond his
years, had endeavoured to follow the example of his elders, but failing
in the leap, had slipped on a treacherous edge, and fallen back into
deep water.
The children screamed loudly in their fright, and Beryl echoed their
cry as she looked round for help. No one was in sight; the beach was
deserted at this hour. Before help could reach them from the village,
the boy would surely be drowned.
What was to be done? Beryl hesitated scarcely a moment. She could swim;
it was for her to make an effort to save the child. Throwing off her
jacket and hat, Beryl leaped into the water as the boy rose to the
surface. But already the swift-flowing current had carried him some
distance from the rocks. Beryl struck out bravely for him, though she
experienced unusual difficulty in swimming, encumbered as she was by
clothing. Ere she could reach him, the child sank again, and when his
head again appeared on the surface, it was still far from her.
And now, as the cries of the children rang in her ears, Beryl began to
doubt her power to save him, and a sense of her own peril chilled her
heart. But with a prayer for help she pressed on, and putting out all
her strength, by a great effort managed to reach the child and grasp
him, only to find that his weight immediately dragged her beneath the
waves.
The children on the rocks uttered an affrighted scream as they saw them
both disappear. But Beryl's head soon re-appeared above the waves as
she tried to strike out for the shore. But her strength was spent, and
the weight of her clothes dragged her down. The tide, too, was dead
against her. She could make no way against it, whilst she held the
child; yet she would not let him go.
Again both sank beneath the sea, and when Beryl again rose to the
surface, she saw that she had drifted still further from the land. And
now she saw that she must die, and oh! How dear life seemed to her at
that moment! Her father's love, her happy home, all the precious things
that were hers rose before her mind. But then came the thought of God,
her Father, and a blessed sense that she was in His hands for life
or for death. And Beryl passed into unconsciousness without fear or
distress.
But the work of Beryl's young life was not yet over. God had heard her
cry for help. A boat with two fishermen in it was rounding Sheldon
Point, and the screams of the children on the rocks brought them
quickly to the spot. One of them dived into the water, and clutched
the children as they rose for the last time to the surface. With his
comrade's help they were lifted into the boat, and rowed swiftly to the
shore.
Both were apparently lifeless when lifted out of the water; but the men
took prompt measures for their restoration, and Beryl soon showed signs
of returning animation. She was carried into Joe Pollard's cottage,
which was nearest to the spot where the adventure had occurred, and
his wife did everything she could for her, whilst the news of what had
happened was sent to Egloshayle House.
It was feared for some time that help had come too late for the little
boy; but the persevering efforts made to restore him at last had their
reward; he revived, and in the end fared much better than Beryl.
Lucy came in the carriage, and conveyed her young lady home. She was
put to bed, and every precaution taken to ward off ill effects; but
ere long shivering fits came on. By night she was in a high fever, and
the doctor, who was summoned, did not disguise that he thought very
seriously of her case. When, on his second visit the next morning, he
found no improvement in her symptoms, he deemed it advisable to at once
telegraph to her father.
Mr. Hollys was in Paris, and though he started on his journey homeward
as soon as possible, he did not arrive at Egloshayle till the evening
of the following day. He entered his home with a sinking heart. It was
hard to miss Beryl's bounding step and rapturous greeting. He came in
quietly, and refusing all refreshment till he had seen his child, stole
noiselessly upstairs to Beryl's sick-room.
What a change met his eyes as he approached her bedside! Beryl's
beautiful hair had been shorn off; her face was burning with fever, and
her eyes, unnaturally brilliant, looked at him without the least sign
of recognition. She was tossing to and fro, and talking incessantly in
a wild, rambling way. Now she would cry out that Coral was drowning,
and implore some one to save her. Then she seemed to fancy that she
herself was sinking in the water, and stretching out her arms, would
cry to her father for help, taking no comfort from his presence, though
he bent over her with words of tenderest love. Presently she would be
calling for Miss Burton, and beseeching her not to go away.
The scene soon became too painful for Guy Hollys, and he left the
sick-room and went downstairs, looking worn and haggard from the
effects of his long Journey and distress of mind. He made enquiries,
and soon learned all that could be told him of the cause of Beryl's
illness. He was moved with sorrowful pride to think how bravely Beryl
had thrown herself into danger in the hope of saving another's life.
But how could he bear it, if that little life had been won at the cost
of her own? The fisherman whose boy had so narrowly escaped drowning
had many other children; but he, Guy Hollys, had only this one precious
child.
"Oh, what a pity it is that Miss Burton is not here!" said his sister
to him. "She is invaluable in sickness; she has such health and such
strong nerves, not like poor me, whom the least thing upsets."
"Yes; she is a good, reliable woman—a woman in a thousand," said Mr.
Hollys gravely. "I too wish that she were here."
"She would come, I have no doubt, Guy, if you were to ask her,"
suggested Miss Hollys. "Additional help is really wanted, for Lucy
cannot do everything. Of course we could hire a nurse, but it would be
much better to have Miss Burton."
"But how can I ask her for our sakes to leave her home now?" said Mr.
Hollys. "You forget that to-morrow will be Christmas Day."
"No, I do not," said Miss Hollys; "but she is very fond of Beryl. I
believe she would gladly come for her sake."
"True. Yes, I think she would," replied her brother thoughtfully.
And then he sat in silence for a while, musing over the suggestion his
sister had made. Presently he rose and went to the library, and having
paced to and fro that room for some minutes in anxious deliberation, he
sat down at his writing-table, and taking pen and paper, wrote a letter
to Miss Burton.
And though it would hardly be true to say that he asked Miss Burton to
come, for he did not venture to do more than hint how greatly she was
needed, his letter had the effect of bringing her to Egloshayle two
days later.