Year: 1870

pick me up as you come back? /
> should like it so much"


"Well-I don't know. The tide is
going out, the boy says; there won't
|. be any trouble of that kind. Are you


sure you won't be chilled or lonely p"
I "Oh quite sure"


tiPromise me that if You are, you
: will 90 TO the cottage at the bend and


warm yourself, or sit on the rocks in
5 the sun. Well look for you in one


place or the other. Goodbye, my
: dear"


"GoOd-Bye, sir"


"And, o Esther you must have


some lunch. You'll be starved be-


fore we come back" cried careful


Helen.


So she and Tom and basket made


their way upward, and a deposit of


sandwiches and port wine was left


in a convenient crevice within reach.


Goodbye, dear. l hope the


sketch will be lovely" And they


were gone-up the clif-side-Mrs.


Gray last, leaning on her husbands


arm.


''Poor child" she said, sit makes


my heart ache to see her look so


sad. Didn't you notice how she was


looking to have US 60, and to be


aIone?"


"And the very worst thing for her.


She needs rousing, and all this NOR


bid thinking does her harm.n


The voices died away. Esther


caught the words, and she smiled at


them-a bitter little smile. That was


what all of them had said since her


trouble came. She must be roused-


amused-and they had crowded busi-


ness and pleasure upon her until she


sometimes felt that she could bear it


no longer: This was the first time in


months that she had felt really free


free to be silent, to look sad, to cry if


she wished. What luxury it was


No anXiOus-eyed mother to watch her
these comparative strangers with


drawn-this cool, dark silence-it was


delicious There was something in


the very nature Of her trial which


made it necessary to veil her.grief with


reserve. A black dress she might


wear-Paul was her cousin, and some


show of mourning is allowed for second


eOusinhOOd even, and for intimate


friendship such as theirs had BEEN
But no one knew of the unavOwed
engagement which bound them since


that hurried farewell letter, in which
his love found utterance, and which


only reached her after he sailed-the
sailing from which there was to be no
| return. No one knew las they talked
OmpassiOnately of her having had


"dreadful shock, poor girl-her own
cousin, you know, and such a young
fellow" that her heart was wearing
widows weeds, and mourning its
| dead as the great loss of life. 1t
wouldn't bear talking about. She had
kept silence and tried to wear brave !
face.


At first there had been a little hope |
as rumors came of one bOat-lOad es-
Gaping from the midnight collision I;
\ but that was over now, and every |
thing had faded into a sort of gray ac- |
ceptance of sorrow. The light had |
| gone out.


Left alone, she found with some sur
prise that she didn't want to cry. All |
the morning she had felt that to creep |
away and weep her heart OHt, would /
be so good; but tears are contrary /
things. She sat there dOgged, with /
calm that was almost like CONTENT
She was thinking of the time when
Paul had visited the island and climb
ed about that cave. On the very
rock-shelf where she sat he might |
have rested. She liked to think so.-
1t brought him nearer.


She put her sketch away little
later, and crept down to o broad
ledge, where, through the arch, the
exquisite sky line was visible. The
surf tumbled and chimed like distant
bells. She lay as if fascinated, her
eyes fixed upon the shining horizon.
Somewhere far beyond it was the
spot where the good ship which held
her all went down, Down where
Her imagination ran riot. Cleaving
the liquid depths to the inmOst sane
tuary of the ocean, she saw the golden
sands, the shadOwy green light percu-
lating through miles of water-the
everlasting repOse which Teigned
there beyond the reach of storm
wind, or hurricane. She tried to fix
the wandering images, and to think
of it as a haven not less tranquil
than the quiet mound under which
are pillowed beloved heads on earth.
But it would not stay. Thoughts of
tempest and fury, of chill, piping
winds whipping the foam from the
waves, of roar and tumult, and a
heaving wilderness of dark waters
came over her, and through all the
refrain of Jean Ingelow's pathetic
mingled and blended:


"And shall see thee no more, no more.


Till the sea gives up its dead"


Great drops forced themselves be-
tween the closed eyelids, and she sob
bed: "Oh Paul Paul! How can I
bear it?'


And then she thought as she had
thought before, how glad she would be
to die, Life didn't seem desirable any
longer, and it would be blessed to be ,
with Paul, at the bottom of the ocean,
and thinking thus, the long eyelashes
droOped more and more heavily ,
peace fell upon the brow and lips; she ,
was asleep-asleep and dreaming a
sweet joyful dream.


How long sheslept she never knew. I
She awOke with sensation of intense
cold. The spell of slumber was so !
strong upon her that for a moment ,
she did not realize what had taken ]
place. The cave was half full of wat $
er. Her feet and the hem of her dress &
were already wet, and the roar of
the waves beneath, and the hardly I
distinguishable archway told that the !
tide had surprised another victim, and {
already the avenue of escape was bar f
red. |


Was this the answer to some un- {
spoken prayer2


The thought flashed over her-had S
she really prayed for death Here it {
was close at hand, and she was con- '
scious of no gladness-Only an in c
stinctive desire for life. It was too q
dreadful to be drowned in that hole, z
and washed away like weed. Life
was worth living after all.


Had somebody said, or was she i
that portion of the cave e
was left uncovered by water? She
could not remember, but now she a
about for some Indication G
Ah! surely this was one-a cork, a S
scrap of paper, lodged on the highest 9
shelf, fragile things which tide must |
inevitably have washed away
With that instinct of property which '
survives shipwreek and fire, she col {
lected her drawing materials and 9TH
er little belongings, and retreating
with them to this possible place of re-
fuge, wrapped her cloak about her, and
with folded hands sat down to await +
her fate. {


The cave was full of pale green O
light. 1t was beautiful to see, as the b
flow rose ledge over ledge b
and flooded the fairy pools, how each s
and sea-urchin, each GRIM c
son and golden weed trembled and v
quivered as with delight at its re- ],
freshing touch. Each anemone threw q
wide its petals and expanded into full e
to meet the spray baptism a
No mortal eye ever looked upon 8
sight more charming; but its beauty r
was lost to the shivering and terrified p
girl. S
The doorway had quite disappeared. n
Sharp spray had dashed against her
dress. The drops struck her face. She o
shrank and clung more tightly to the t,
rock. a prayer rose to her lips; and +;
through thetremulOus lightOf the sub f
merged archway astrange shadow be- 81
gan to go and come, to move and Q
pause, and move again. Was it fish, b
Or weed, OrsOme mysterious presence? G.
Did it come accompanied by life or 81
death? o