Chapter XVII: A Fog

UP on the top of the Dingle.

One after another arrived there, panting more or less with the scramble. It was a disappointment that the sun had vanished, and thick mists were gathering over the landscape. The children did not so much care about the lost scenery, but Madge regretted that Mona could not see her favourite view in all its beauty.

"Never mind, Madge. I'll come again some day, and mean time, I must take your word for granted," Mona said, as she sat breathlessly on a green bank. She had declined to drive up, partly from pity for the pony, partly from catching a momentary infection of the general enthusiasm, and she was one of the first to reach the top. Her white lips now made Madge uneasy.

"You're overdone, Miss Mona, I'm afraid."

"A little tired. No matter. Do you often come here, Madge?"

"I used in old days, Miss Mona—when Neill was with me. He and I'd walk it, and think nothing of the distance,—for a day's pleasuring, you know."

Mona looked into the calm face wistfully. "Madge, do you never feel impatient now to hear from him again?"

"The feeling comes,—once in a while," said Madge, plucking a small twig of budding May. "I'll hear in right good time, Miss Mona—whether I meet him in this life, or not till in the next."

Perhaps she found it a little hard to talk about him, for she moved away slowly, and the next instant, a rush of children claimed her attention. Hardly ten minutes later, Mr. Prior came up.

"Madge, it won't do to stay here. The fog is coming on fast."

She had been so busy, as not to notice how rapidly the change in the weather was taking place, and a passing look of consternation showed in her face, when she took a glance round.

"There's nothing for it but to be off as sharp as possible, sir," she said. "I never know a fog come on so quick after so bright a day."

"It will be on us completely soon. Call the children, Madge, and keep them together. We must get out of the Dingle at once."

A scramble down that rough pathway in a dense fog would be no trifle, with so many little ones in the party, and more especially for the pony and chaise. Tyrrell and Blayney, remarking on the latter point, advised that Mr. Prior should descend to the "Basin" immediately, taking down as many of the party as were already at hand. Mr. Prior would trust no one but himself at the pony's head.

The fog thickened rapidly during even that brief discussion, and wreaths of white smoke-like mist came rolling and curling around them, pouring up from the low country round the Dingle. Most of the children, being happily near at hand, were despatched at once to scramble after the sure-footed little pony, under the guardianship of Ned Blayney and his mother. Three only were missing, besides Mona, whom nobody had seen since the few words exchanged between herself and Madge. The party had scattered so widely over the hill, however, at the first moment of arrival, that it was not surprising that all did not at once respond to the call, and the two Tyrrells, with Miss Prior and Madge, remained behind to hunt up the missing individuals.

With the help of a little shouting, the children were speedily found, rather in a state of alarm at having missed their companions in the fog. They were at once sent after the rest down the hill under charge of Mrs. Tyrrell. Mona, however, was not with them. Nobody seemed to know anything about her, and very bitterly poor Madge blamed herself for not having paid more regard to her.

"Nonsense, Madge; it was the most natural thing in the world," Miss Prior said kindly. "We shall come upon her directly."

But as the minutes passed, and the fog grew more dense, and they still sought and called, and called and sought in vain, the matter began to look more serious.

"Where are you all?" in a shout from Mr. Prior, was a welcome sound to the searchers. They gathered together, unable to see each other's faces at a few yards' distance.

"Not found yet?" he asked. "This is extraordinary!"

"I can't imagine where the poor child can have wandered," said Miss Prior. "If she is near, she must hear us calling; and yet surely she would not have walked far."

"Tyrrell's gone down the side a good way, to look," said Madge. "But my fear is lest she should have slipped somewhere, sir, and maybe stunned herself."

It was the fear of all of them—that or worse. Why otherwise should she not answer?

"I trust not," he said. "But she can hardly have gone far in any case. She would never have left the hill."

They separated to search again more thoroughly,—Miss Prior, as a stranger to the ground, being left upon the summit, in case of Mona appearing there.

About ten minutes more of fruitless effort passed away. Then Madge and Mr. Prior meeting unexpectedly, stopped to speak together, and broke off with a simultaneous exclamation.

"Madge!"

"Sir!—What's that?"

Six steps, and they had found her,—quietly lying on the ground, with her eyes closed, and her hand under her cheek, and her black dress spreading over the grass. Their first impression was that she must have received some injury, their second, that no fall was possible in that spot. She had chosen the softest of flat mossy ground, with not a rock near.

"She's asleep, sir," Madge said, in utter amazement. "It's enough to give her her death of cold. Miss Mona, dear—do wake up now."

"It is not natural sleep, surely," said Mr. Prior, in an uneasy tone. "Mona, my dear child, you must not lie here."

She sat up wearily, in answer to their efforts, and then leant against Madge Hardwicke.

"O do let me rest a little longer—so early—and my head aches," she muttered drowsily.

"Miss Mona, dear, you're not in bed. You're up here, on the top of the hill; and you've got to come down the Dingle as quick as can be."

Mona opened her eyes more fully, and gazed round in bewilderment. "The Dingle!" she said.

"Don't you know where you are?" asked Mr. Prior.

"It's the fog confuses her," said Madge. "Isn't it, Miss Mona? You didn't think you'd wake up, and find the Dingle all misty, like this, did you?"

"Oh—fog—I see," said Mona, in a more natural voice. "How stupid of me! I thought I must be going blind at the first moment. What makes it so foggy?"

"It comes on sometimes like that," said Madge. "Do you feel better now, Miss Mona? Can you walk down the hill?"

"Why, I must have been asleep," said Mona, standing up. "How could I be so absurd! Why, Madge—"

"What made you go to sleep, Mona?" asked Mr. Prior, making her lean upon him, as they moved towards the path, while Madge went to relieve the minds of the other searchers.

"I don't know," said Mona, looking ashamed. "I think I felt dull and giddy, so I just lay down for a minute on the grass, to see if it would do me good. And the next thing I remember is, that I fancied I was being called in the morning to get up."

"You had a sound sleep at all events. Not a very safe sort of a couch to choose, though."

"No; it was stupid of me," said Mona languidly, for the exertion of walking was bringing back the feeling of sick giddiness which had assailed her before.

She had not much to say to Miss Prior, who came up the next instant, full of relief and curiosity, and rather disposed to scold playfully, till Mona's white lips stopped her.

"I'm afraid your grassy siesta hasn't been a very refreshing one," she said. "Poor child! It's of no use for you to try to walk fast. I'll go on, and tell them all that you are found, and get the children packed into the break. We had better be off as quickly as possible now. What a fog it is, to be sure!"

"It seems an unfortunate sort of ending to your bright day, Madge," said Mr. Prior.

"I wouldn't mind anything else, if Miss Mona was well," said Madge.

But Mona looked up with a smile and said, "O, I shall be all right, Madge—only sleep made me feel heavy. I have had a headache for two or three days past. The scrambling brought it on worse, I suppose,—but it isn't anything to signify."