Happily human beings are so constituted, that grief with few, especially
with the young, lasts long. After a time, Lady Nora and her cousin
recovered their usual spirits, and began to ride about the country as
before. Their chief pleasure was to visit those they had long known,
and to extend their search of others who might require relief. The
surest means for those who are themselves in distress of obtaining
comfort is to do good to their fellow-creatures. Several times they
paid a visit to the old fishwife, Widow O'Neil. She seemed to have
grown more hardy and wiry than ever. It was wonderful what exertions
she could go through. She often had the assistance of her brother
Shane, who was, however, advancing in life, and not so active as before,
while she appeared to have retained all her strength and activity. They
remarked, whenever they paid her a visit, the delight she took in
speaking of her long-lost son. She never failed to tell them that she
had seen him in her dreams. She knew, she declared, that he was
thinking of her, and though she could not say why he was detained, he
was, she felt certain, endeavouring to come back to her. Sometimes she
thought he was a slave in some foreign land; sometimes that he had been
cast away on some desert island, and had to live there, unable to make
his escape, and sometimes that he was in prison. She said she knew he
was in far distant lands, as that alone would have kept him from her.
They could not help being struck by the deep, the intense love and
confidence in him which the old woman always expressed for her son,
though they naturally had considerable doubts whether, if he really was
alive, he could feel the same for her.
"He was a handsome youth," observed Lady Sophy to her cousin, "but there
was a wild, daring look in his eye, and he was a lad who, when once
away, and having obtained a better position in life than that which he
enjoyed in his early days, would very likely cast off all thoughts of
his poor mother, and would have no wish to return to her humble
cottage."
"Oh, no, no," said Lady Nora, "I could not think that of him; of course
I do not recollect him clearly, except from the sketch you made of him,
but yet I am sure from the expression of his countenance that he must
have been as true and honest as he was handsome. No, I would rather
suppose that he has long since been killed. Just consider how many
thousands of seamen have lost their lives within the last few years in
the numberless battles in which our country has been engaged, and how
likely it is that he was among them, and that is why no one has received
any tidings of him."
Such was the conversation which took place as they climbed up the hill
to return to their horses. They had promised Widow O'Neil to visit her
again in a day or two. She had undertaken to supply them with shells
which her brother Shane had collected, and which they wished to send to
a friend at a distance. When, however, the day arrived on which they
were to pay their visit, the morning broke with a storm of rain and
wind. The dark clouds chased each other over the sky, and the wind
whistled round the towers of the castle.
"It will be impossible for us to ride to Widow O'Neil's to-day,"
observed Sophy when they met at breakfast. "I do not think Mr
Finlayson will promise to accompany us; he would not like to face the
bad weather."
"Perhaps the rain will clear off, and then he will not mind the wind any
more than we shall," observed Sophy.
Mr Finlayson, who then entered the room, declared that should the
weather clear, he was ready to mount the little cob which had been
appropriated for his use, which was so steady, that occasionally the
Earl had gone out shooting on its back, and so sure-footed, it had never
been known to stumble.
"But, my dear Lady Nora, you must be more careful than you were once on
a time, on a skittish young horse which nearly proved your death,"
observed the old lawyer. "A day like this tries an animal; and unless
your steed is as steady as a rock I cannot sanction your going out."
"Oh, I will take care to ride one of the best behaved of our stud,"
answered Nora, "and Sophy shall have the next, as she is somewhat the
better horsewoman. I am anxious to send off those beautiful shells to
Miss Fitz-Patrick, as she particularly begged to have them, and we may
not have another opportunity of doing so for some time."
It was thus arranged that the horses should be ordered in the forenoon,
should the weather clear sufficiently, and that they would pay their
visit to Widow O'Neil. In a short time the rain ceased falling,
although the wind continued blowing as hard as ever; indeed, it was a
complete summer gale. The clouds rushed rapidly along the sky, and the
seas rolled in with all their force from across the wide Atlantic. It
wanted an hour or more to the time they had agreed to set out, and the
two ladies retired to their turret boudoir. Scarcely had they entered
the room, when Lady Nora exclaimed that she saw a vessel in the
north-west, at no great distance from the land. The glass was turned in
the direction towards which she pointed.
"She is a large ship," she observed, "but she seems to me to have lost
most of her masts, there is but one standing; yes, I am sure of that,
all the the rest are gone. With this fierce gale blowing on the shore,
what a dangerous position she is in! I cannot make out what ship she
is. Do you look, Sophy; what do you say to it?"
Sophy looked through the glass.
"I cannot make out to a certainty, but from her appearance, I should
judge her to be a man-of-war. Yes, I am nearly sure of it; I should say
that she is a frigate, for when I keep the telescope steady, I can
almost count her ports."
Nora looked through the glass.
"Yes, you are right," she said; "she seems to be standing to the south,
but she is evidently drifting fast towards the land. I see, though, she
has got some after-sail set on the stump of the mizenmast, and I think I
understand it; she wishes to weather the reef, and of course after that
take shelter in the bay. Yes, yes, that is clearly her object; she is
struggling bravely with the seas, but oh, in what fearful peril she is
placed."
The ladies immediately ordered their horses round, proposing to watch
the progress of the ship from the cliffs.
"I daresay that Mr Finlayson will not object to come with us at once,"
said Lady Sophy, and she left the room in search of him.
"Willingly, my dear young lady," he answered; "you will find that I am
no despicable cavalier when once I am in the saddle."
The party were soon mounted and cantering across the downs in the
direction of the struggling ship. Mr Finlayson was much less
acquainted with nautical affairs than were his fair companions, still he
knew enough to be aware that the ship was in great danger. The wind
prevented them from making rapid progress along the downs, although they
urged on their steeds as fast as they could go, anxious to meet some one
who could give them further information about the ship. They determined
to go on till they reached the widow's hut, as they knew that, should
her brother be there, as he had promised to be, they would learn more
from him than from anybody else as to the probability of the ship
escaping destruction on the dangerous reef towards which she appeared to
be drawing. Still they hoped against hope, that she might struggle on
and escape.
As they approached the end of the cliff above Widow O'Neil's cottage,
they recognised her standing on a high projecting point of land, gazing
towards the ship. Her actions gave them the idea that she, like poor
Kathleen, had lost her senses. Wildly she waved her arm, sometimes
clasping her hands, raising them towards heaven; then, again, she
stretched them over the ocean. As the ladies and Mr Finlayson rode up
to her, words of prayer were escaping from her lips.
"What is the matter, Mistress O'Neil?" asked Sophy, riding up to her.
"Why are you thus agitated this morning?"
"It is on account of a dream I had last night," she answered. "That is
no wonder, though, for every night as I lie on my bed I dream that my
boy is coming back to me, though when I am about to clasp him to my
heart he escapes away again; but last night I dreamed that he really had
come back, and there he was lying in my arms, just as he was when an
infant and smiling in my face. He must come back soon, too, for I am
getting old, very old, and oh, he will scarcely know me now! There is
not much time to lose; but he will come; yes, my lady, I know that he
will come. He will not be as young, and beautiful, and strong, and
happy as he was when he went away, so many, many years ago,--I know not
how many; I have lost all count of them. Oh, they have been years of
grief and mourning to me--sad, sad years; but such have been the years
of my life since one I loved was taken from me. Ah, if you had known
him, ladies, you would have said I had reason to love him: and now, my
boy, my only boy, to have been thus long kept from me! But he is coming
back, ladies. I tell you, I dreamed last night that he was coming back;
and suppose he was to be on board yonder ship! Ah, but I feel sure that
he cannot be, for she will strike on yonder dark reef, and soon be a
shattered wreck, to which no human being could cling and live. See how
fiercely the seas roll in, and dash furiously over it! See, see how the
brave frigate is drifting faster and faster towards the land! When I
first saw her this morning she was a good two leagues away, and now
there is not a quarter of a league between her and that rocky point. If
once she strikes upon it, few of her sturdy crew will ever come ashore
alive. Few, do I say? none, none can live amid those breakers. Oh,
Heaven protect them!"
In spite of the strong gale which blew round them, neither the ladies
nor Mr Finlayson could tear themselves from the spot where they stood,
it being the best situation they could reach for watching the progress
of the labouring frigate.