WHERE?
MRS. ELLIOT sat for some time after her little party had left her,
thinking of many things, and when she began to feel lonely she made her
way down to the cottage, which was about half-way to the shore.
The woman was busy preparing their tea, which had been ordered when
they left the pony there in the morning, and Mrs. Elliot therefore sat
down on the bench outside the door and opened the book she had brought.
When she looked up, after an hour or more, she felt astonished that the
young people had not returned.
She went into the old-fashioned kitchen, and found the woman setting
the cream and butter upon the table.
"They are late, Mrs. Mansbridge," said Mrs. Elliot; "but they will soon
be here, I expect. What a pleasant room this is."
"Yes, ma'am; but since my man left me, it has not seemed the same."
"I can well believe that," answered Mrs. Elliot. "Is it long since you
lost him?"
"Six months," answered the woman; "and he left me with a day-old baby."
"Oh, how very sad for you."
"One thing that comforts me is, he kissed it before he went. He held it
in his arms; he had so longed for it; and then he said, as he gave it
back to me, 'I don't know if I shall ever see thee again, my love; but
tell the little man that his father loved him and blessed him.'"
"How was it?" asked Mrs. Elliot, thinking of the long weary illness of
her own husband.
"He never came back alive, ma'am. A storm came on, and one of the spars
of his boat broke, and in half-an-hour, he was—'at home,' ma'am."
"At home?" asked Mrs. Elliot. "Ah, yes, I know what you mean."
"And though this is not like home without him," said the woman, "yet I
can wait; my Father has made me willing, ma'am."
Just then a sailor boy was seen hurrying up the hill. He beckoned to
Mrs. Mansbridge through the lattice window, and she went out.
When she re-entered her face was very pale, and she came up gently to
Mrs. Elliot.
"There has been an accident, ma'am," she said softly; "but a boat has
been gone some time with the young gentleman."
"What has happened?" said Mrs. Elliot, starting towards the door.
"They were overtaken by the tide at the Caves. But take courage, dear
lady; there's One above who rules all things."
"Is there any hope? Tell me truly," she breathed.
The woman took her hand. "There is some hope; but the tide flows in
very quickly in that little bay, and rises very high too. Still—he has
been gone some time, with a boat and two sailors."
Mrs. Elliot mechanically walked out of the cottage, and turned towards
the shore. Mrs. Mansbridge looked after her with pitying eyes; and
while she put on a large fire, and set blankets to warm, she murmured
half aloud:
"O Lord, it's easy to trust Thee in fair weather; but when the storm
comes—And yet it is in the storm that Thou art most near; and Thou
canst say, 'Peace, be still.'"
* * * * * * *
When Wilmot once more stood on the clear sand at the other side of
the projecting cliff, so near to them all and yet divided by such a
gulf, he rushed at the utmost speed to which he could force his limbs,
towards the few fishermen's cottages which he could descry about a mile
along the shore.
Drawn up above high water mark were two or three boats, and when he
could make these out he took courage.
How weary the time seemed. He almost felt as if he were going backwards
instead of forwards. At last the boats were reached; but no men were to
be seen.
He shouted with all his voice, and ran up towards the cottages. Two
sailors, who were smoking at their garden-gates, answered to his call,
and came running down to him.
"A boat—quick—" was all he could gasp; and understanding in their
precarious trade that there was danger, they quickly unfastened one,
and pushed her down into the water.
Wilmot jumped in after them, and they set off. Now while the oars
splashed evenly and strongly, he had plenty of time to think,
and plenty of time to explain. But of explanation, he only said
half-a-dozen words, and sat back at first exhausted.
His soaking, shoeless, and coatless condition, and the signs of extreme
exertion which his manner indicated, showed the men, without much
telling, that he considered there was urgent need of speed. Besides
they knew of the treacherous tide.
"I say, master," said the man, handing him over a rough coat, "you put
that on, or you'll have an illness, as sure as sure."
Wilmot roused himself, and asked if they had another pair of oars; and
on being told there was, he pulled them out, and set himself to help
forward the little craft; so nearer and nearer came the jutting cliff,
and lower and lower sank the sun.
The men strained every nerve to push on; and Wilmot, while he aided
them, could not help glancing over his shoulder every now and then to
see how near they were getting.
At last they reached the cliff, and were under the projecting rocks,
and were actually turning the corner. There lay the little bay before
them, with the setting sun lighting up every crevice of the steep
rocks, and sparkling on the water as it rolled inwards.
But as the boat came well round the point, and Wilmot could scan the
length of the cliffs, there was no row of faces to welcome him; nothing
on which his eye could rest but a piece of floating muslin; for the
waves washed up deep and sullen against the rocks.
[Illustration]