The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1883-12-01

the landlord
"There is no danger here, l think, ="
he said, "but at sea these storms are
very disastrous, and the wrecks come
ashore at Cannot Rocks"
| * * 4
Morning-cIear, cool and bright.
The sea, with white caps, danced to-
wards the east.
At breakfast, Queenie had heard
rumors of sad stories. The crisp breeze
blowing the tendril curls of gold away
from her eyes. showed them blue and
sober, as she ran down, alone, upon
the beach.
All night the house had seemed rock
ing in the sweep of the flying winds.
She had not slept. Her face showed
winter within the black burnous which
wrapped the head and shoulders.
Why did her slight feet fly SO swiftly
towards Cannot Rocks? What need
she care for wrecks coming ashore?
Surely no one she loved had been eX-
posed to the tempest.
There were groups of people on Gan
net Rocks. She stopped, with a little
gasp. A black, helpless hulk lay out
at sea.
\ company of men and boys ran by.
She saw her brother.
"1'he Lady Lucy went ashore !" he
shouted. ''Bruce Wilmarth-"
That was all she heard. He was
gone with the rest. More men went
by-some with ropes.
"The bodies will wash in with the
tide that is coming '' she heard them
say.
Then she was alone again. What
lonely cries Were they the birds
screams or shouts of the men? How
cold and strong the wash of the sea |!
Why was Queenie crying?
Shaking SO that she could not stand
she sat down on a rock. The surf of
the incoming waves crawled up to her.
Something dark and heavy was tossed
in the foam, for moment, then rolled
to her feet A human figure, all
shrouded in seaweed
She screamed and sprang up-then
fell with a groan. She had sprained
her ankle.
She dragged herself upon the rocks,
but she could get no further. White
with terror and pain, she looked for
help, but none came near. How hor-
ribly still and dead lay the form at her
feet, face downward 1t had a short,
slken brown beard and close curling
dark hair. Whom had it been? for it
was nothing now but cold form, lack.
ing burial. How the wet, dark curls
glittered in the sunshine !
1T cannot be anyone know 1t
cannot be !" cried Queenie, wringing
her hands.
The surf crawled closer and stirred
the poor, helpless hands. The tears
washed down Queenie's face as she
watched them, as if fascinated. No
one was coming. How awful it was
''But l could bear it," murmured
Queenie, eff he did not look SO hor-
ribly like
She could not speak his name. She
remembered how haughtily she had
listened to that sweet story Bruce Will
marth had told her-for it was sweet
What a careless, awful heart she had
then :. How sorely it ached now How
long must she be chained to that rock,
watching those glistening curls and
those helpless hands Had not her
punishment been enough?
Help was near while she was all I'M
aware. She looked up suddenly in
Bruce Wilmarth's brown, surprised
eyes, as he stood beside her on the
soundless sand.
"Queenie %
: "Bruce !"
Then she chung about his knees like
a child.
ooh, take me away! Oh, take me
away p she cried.
} He lifted her in his arms and turned
away.
"That poor fellow" he said, passing
the body "it is one of the sailors from
the Lady Lucy.
u He carried her up to the hotel. The