Chapter VI: Caught by the Tide

"MAUDE!" called Mrs. Elliot from the breakfast-parlour. "Maude! Are we not late this morning?"

"No, mamma; or at least only five minutes," answered a handsome girl coming forth from the kitchen, rolling up an apron which she had just taken off.

"I was afraid it was more, my dear."

"I have done all the things," said Maude, "and packed up the butter, and Wilmot is picking the strawberries. The butter is as cool as possible, and will travel so in all those cabbage leaves. I put some wet muslin over it first, of course."

"Have you made up the bread?"

"Yes; and it is in the oven. I think I've done well," said Maude complacently; "and by the time we have finished breakfast, it will be baked."

"Such a lot of little pretty loaves!" said a child, who had been superintending the preparations, and was now seated at the table.

"Yes; Hope could not have made them better," said Maude, laughing.

At this moment, a tall young man carried in a large basket of strawberries.

"Will this be enough?" he asked.

"Are there any more ripe?" said Mrs. Elliot.

"Yes; a good many more."

"Oh, then let us have them!" said Maude. "Nobody could have too many strawberries."

"Very well; but some of you will have to give a hand to them after breakfast."

"The children will," said Mrs. Elliot; "there will be plenty of time."

Then they sat down to breakfast.

"I wonder what time Hope and Miss Arundel will come down," said little Mary.

"Hope is sure to be punctual," said Maude, "so at exactly 'ten o' the clock,' we shall hear the wheels."

A picnic to Orston Cliff was one of the "institutions" of Shellford. It was about five miles off, and was to be reached in four different modes—by sea, by donkeys, by any conveyance which Shellford might boast, and by walking.

Many parties preferred going by water, but to-day the young people, having had the offer of Mrs. Arundel's pony carriage, determined to be independent of outside help, and were to walk and ride in turns.

Mrs. Elliot was to drive, and to take charge of the eatables; and these young country folks thought nothing of the walk, they said, even if their turn did not happen to come for a lift.

Before ten o'clock the little Elliots were eagerly looking up the hill towards Fairleigh for the first sight of the pony carriage. Very punctually it was seen descending the steep road, with Nellie and Hope seated in it.

Nellie had now been at Shellford nearly a month, and sea breezes and country life had wonderfully improved her. She was no longer the pale London girl, but looked as fresh and rosy as any of them, while there was just that air about her of ease and polish which Maude secretly envied and tried to copy.

The girls both got out and went into the cottage to see after Mrs. Elliot and the "supplies," as Wilmot called them.

"Mamma," said Hope, "we must consider the hampers quite equal to the weight of one person. We have agreed that only two besides you shall ride at once."

"There would not be room either," said Wilmot, coming out with the large hamper, and placing it on the front seat.

"Where is what you have brought?" said one of the children to Hope.

She laughed, and pointed to the back of the carriage, where two large baskets had been carefully fastened.

"Capital," said Wilmot, going behind and inspecting it. "Let us hope they are well fastened; for supposing we should arrive there and find them gone!"

"You can walk behind, to make sure," said his little saucy sister.

"I daresay," he answered, looking roguishly at her; "and poor Wilmot would have plenty of fun, wouldn't he?"

"Oh, I didn't mean it!" she said, relenting, and coming up to him for a kiss.

Then there was an amicable squabble as to who should ride first, and it was settled that Nellie and Maude should be the ones chosen.

The little carriage soon distanced the walkers, and went quickly up the smooth turnpike-road for a mile or more, when at the appointed place Mrs. Elliot drew up, and they sat still waiting for the others.

"We must not let it seem long," she said, "for they cannot be here for at least ten minutes."

So they filled up the time by a pleasant little talk; and Nellie told Mrs. Elliot what she had never yet heard—about Christina's Orphanage.

"Is she happy in it?" she asked presently. "Really happy?"

"I believe she is; I never saw anyone more tranquilly and uninterruptedly happy."

"I have heard that she has passed through great sorrows?"

"Very great indeed; but I hope brighter days will come. You know Walter will be back in less than two years."

"Two years!" said Maude. "That seems an age."

"So it does," answered Nellie; "but not so bad as three."

"Why, of course not; but I should always be afraid something would happen, and that he would never come."

"Don't, my dear," said her mother deprecatingly.

"But then," said Nellie, her eyes filling with tears, "if we thought of all those things, we should never be happy for a moment."

"That's just it," answered Maude; "if I had any thing I valued very much in life (which I haven't), I should be thinking all the time I should lose it."

"That would be dreadful," said Nellie; "but I think God is better to us than that."

"But, Nellie, people's best-loved ones do die sometimes," said Maude.

"Yes," she answered thoughtfully; "but don't you think, Mrs. Elliot, we cannot always understand what God does, and must wait?"

Mrs. Elliot answered somewhat constrainedly, "My dear, you must not appeal to me. I have not been able to understand the dealings of Providence."

"Somehow," said Nellie hesitating, "mamma thinks that we shall be able to understand some day, though we cannot now."

"It is often very hard and very mysterious," said Mrs. Elliot, looking along the lane in a hopeless kind of way that made Nellie's heart ache.

Maude sprang up, and went to peep round a bend, to look for the others, and Nellie put her hand softly on Mrs. Elliot's. "I would rather trust Him!" she said gently, looking with full eyes into the careworn widow's face.

"I do not know, my dear; life has been a long struggle with me, and I have had but little joy, and now my best is gone, and I have nothing left but an empty chair and an empty heart."

"It must be dreadful," said Nellie; "but, oh, forgive me, if I say that I know Jesus Christ is able to give you comfort and peace."

"Thank you, dear. I know at least that you think so," answered Mrs. Elliot, pressing her hand kindly.

"Here they come," said Maude. "How pretty they look winding up the road in their fresh muslin dresses and sailor hats."

"We have overtaken you at last," said Hope; "and we have been settling the order of march for the next stage; three little ones are to ride next."

"Jump in, then," said Mrs. Elliot; and they all again set forward.

Nellie had turned to pick some wild roses in the hedge, and Wilmot followed her, saying, "Those are quite dusty, Miss Arundel, to what we shall find further on, unless you particularly want these?"

Nellie raised her head, and Wilmot saw traces of tears on her face.

She glanced at him, and away, in some confusion, and said, nervously throwing those down she had already gathered, "Oh, it does not matter in the least. I only thought they were so pretty." She hastened after the others, while Wilmot exclaimed:

"There is not the least hurry, Miss Arundel; we all do just as we like."

"The others would not 'like' to be kept back by us," she answered, laughing a little.

The cavalcade now turned into one of the narrow lanes so charming in Devonshire. It was early, and the road lay in such a direction that the sun had not yet peeped over the top of the high bank and hedge. The lane was therefore perfectly cool and shady, and the young people turned round and congratulated each other on the change from the dusty high road. Ferns, mosses, foxgloves, and wild flowers of all descriptions, grew luxuriantly, and the children began to fill their hands with them, as though they could not help it.

Nellie did not attempt to pick any more flowers, but walked on soberly thinking. Not unhappily; in those few moments of quiet, she had lifted her heart to her Heavenly Father; she had reminded Him that He had promised to comfort those that mourn, and asked Him to fulfil His word to Mrs. Elliot; and then she had gone on content that it would be well.

They now made their second change, and Wilmot said they had accomplished half the journey. Mrs. Elliot produced some buns, and they all sat down to rest for a few minutes. The pony was allowed to turn his head to the patch of dewy green grass by the side of the lane, and enjoy himself like the rest.

"Will you come and look at something?" said Wilmot, addressing Nellie; "one of our Devonshire treasures?"

Nellie followed him to a little break in the bank, and he stepped down suddenly, and turning round, held out his hand. "It is worth seeing," he said, smiling.

So Nellie gave a light spring, and found herself in a deep shady nook, with lovely ferns growing in the greatest profusion, broken stones lying scattered about, and that indescribable smell which belongs to verdant damp vegetation. The sound of trickling water added to the charm, and Nellie uttered an exclamation of delight.

"It is lovely, isn't it?" said Wilmot, looking up in her face. "It seems to quiet the soul, and lead one far away from the turmoil of life."

"Yes; I was thinking so," she answered.

"I was almost wishing I could stay here always; and then I remembered that it would be but a poor life after all, Miss Arundel."

"Yes; and I believe that all those wishes of ours come from a discontented spirit."

"I daresay they do; and instead of wishing something impossible, we should rather delight that the great Maker of all things gives these lovely bits of nature to refresh us."

"Is it good water?" asked Nellie, stooping and putting her hand in.

"Oh dear, yes. See, I have brought this glass to fill for the others. Will you have some first?"

"How beautifully cool," she exclaimed.

"Here you are!" called George Elliot from above. "Are you never coming with the water?"

"All in good time," answered Wilmot. "I'm showing Miss Arundel the beauties of our neighbourhood."

Nellie made her way across the damp stones to the mouth of the dell.

"Wait a moment," called Wilmot; "you do not know how to get up."

He came after her, and showed her where to place her foot, and then springing up before her, he took her hand, and in a moment she stood in the lane again, with the others close to them, just having finished their buns.

Wilmot held up the clear spring water, and the whole party must needs go down into the shady dell to taste it fresh from the spring. Nellie volunteered to stay by the pony, and even Mrs. Elliott was tempted by her description to see it for herself; for she had never happened in the three years she had lived at Shellford to visit this spot.

Nellie seated herself in the little carriage, and folding her hands on the reins, leaned back and looked up in the deep blue sky.

"'When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, what is man that Thou art mindful of him?'" she said softly to herself.

The sound of the voices came up as a murmur from the spring; the crunch of the pony's teeth as it tore away the grass, the hum of the bees in the wild honeysuckle, all were in unison with her happy spirit; and she enjoyed for a few moments one of those seasons of exquisite delight, which generally belong to youth, and which seem to strengthen for the duties of this work-a-day world.

She felt quite sorry to hear them all coming back; and it was not till half of them had emerged, that she sat upright and brought herself back from dreamland.

"You look happy," said Hope, coming up to her affectionately.

Nellie smiled. "It is so peaceful, Hope."

"Oh!" said Hope regretfully, "I would give something if—" She broke off abruptly, and the rest being now anxious to push on, there was no opportunity of knowing what Hope wanted, but Nellie guessed.

Without further adventure they reached Orston Cliff, and everyone voted for an early dinner and a long afternoon.

The mysteries of the hamper and baskets were now explored. All the little party were too natural and simple to disguise their interest, and so everybody set to and helped to spread the feast.

A place was fixed upon under some shady trees, where in front they had a beautiful view of the sea far beneath them. The ground sloped away from them gradually for about fifty yards, and then came the edge of Orston Cliff, and beyond that an expanse of sea and sky, whose blue to-day rivalled each other.

"You are very grave, Nellie," said Maude.

"Only it is so beautiful," answered Nellie, taking a deep breath, and turning to the baskets once more.

"Here is Maude's bread," said George, unwrapping a snowy cloth, and displaying a number of tempting rolls. "And here is another package with it."

"What's this?" said Mary, feeling it with her fat little fingers. "It feels very knobby."

"Let it alone, Mary," said Maude. "It is not to be opened till we have said grace."

Mary put it down, and found that her mamma had turned out a blancmange and some jelly, and was now unrolling something else. What could it be?

"Only a ham," said Mary, disappointed, and was hissed at by her young brothers, who did not at all disdain ham.

"That is all my contribution," said Mrs. Elliot, as she placed the strawberries at the far end of the tablecloth.

"Not so bad," said Wilmot. "I wish I could get this country fare in London, mother."

"I wish you could, dear."

"Here are Hope's things," said Maude. "Now, Miss Hope, let us see what you can do."

"How awfully jealous Maude is!" said George.

"Not at all," answered Maude; "but she was perfection before she went, and what she must be now—"

"Well," said Hope calmly, "here are a couple of chickens."

"You couldn't have made them," said Mary, nodding.

"No, I didn't," said Hope. "And here is a meat-pie; and here—"

"Stop," said Maude; "did you make the meat-pie?"

"I did," answered Hope.

"Then let us 'Hope' it will be good," said George. "What else?"

"Here are some tartlets, and some lemonade."

"Did you make that?"

"I did," answered Hope again.

"Well done!" exclaimed Wilmot. "Now let us begin."

"But here's another basket," said Nellie.

There was a general rush, but Hope pushed them away, and told them dryly that that was for tea; whereupon there was a rush back again, and they all settled down to enjoy their dinner.

"Now everybody," said Maude, "here is a mysterious package; and what will you give me for its contents?"

She took up as she spoke the neatly-folded cloth which had aroused curiosity before, and began to undo it.

Inside appeared a number of queer-shaped looking dainty rolls, and Maude held up the top one, saying, "Here is my first pretty thing; whom can it be for?"

"It is an M," said little Mary. "Perhaps it is for me."

"No, it does not happen to be," said Maude, smiling; "nor for me either; it is for mamma."

"Oh, to be sure!" said Mary.

"Here is a W."

"That is Wilmot," exclaimed Mary.

"And here an H for Hope, and an N for Nellie, and so on, and so on," passing them all round with rapid fingers; and then she laughingly told them, they must put some suitable adjectives to each letter before it was eaten, applicable to the person for whom it was made.

This set them off with fine jokes, and Wilmot was pronounced "wise" and "witty" and "wilful" in a breath. But they found some of the names more difficult to match; however, it served to amuse them, and dinner was a very cheerful affair.

"Now what shall we do next?" asked Wilmot, when dinner was over, stretching himself on his back under a tree, and putting his hat over his eyes.

"It is not difficult to guess what you intend to do," said Hope, laughing.

"I'm ready for anything," he answered; "but you would not let me help with the plates for fear of breaking them, and so I may as well wait in comfort."

"I shall rest here," said Mrs. Elliot, "and very likely go over and peep at the pony at the cottage, and have a talk with the woman who lives there all alone."

"We thought of going down to the shore; it is so lovely there, mamma," said Hope.

"Very well; but take care of the little ones."

"Oh, yes, we'll do that! But shall you not be dull?"

"Oh dear, no. I have brought my knitting, and there is a book in the pony carriage if I want it."

So they wished her good-bye, and left her. She watched their retreating forms down the green slope till they were lost in a turn of the road, and then her mind wandered over the events of the morning, over Nellie's conversation, and over the memories of her past life.

What had her life done for her? It had been one long struggle with a large family, and small means—a struggle which had been unblessed by the comforting assurance of a Father's providing care. She had worked and thought and wearied for her husband and children because she must; because life, with its treadmill round of duties, had forced her. She had not known that there was sustaining strength to bear her on her way; nor had she the comfort of the highest motive for doing her labour cheerfully, even because it was meted out to her as her portion of her Father's will.

Her burdens would have been the same perhaps; but the heart that was now such a heavy weight, would have been light.

Alas! She knew not the way. She shut her eyes to the blessing that was so close to her, and went along in darkness, dragging weary feet.

While Mrs. Elliot was thinking so sorrowfully, the young people were hurrying gaily down to the shore, full of life and merriment.

They soon reached the edge of the waves, and at first were satisfied to sit down and watch the rolling breakers. Then the girls sang, "What are the wild waves saying?" which Nellie said "was never old, and sung by the sea was always thrilling."

"Can't you sing us something?" asked little Mary, looking up in her face.

"I did not know you could sing," said Hope, bluntly.

"I do at home," said Nellie. "We sing a great deal."

"Well, sing something now," said George; "I am tired of the girls' old songs."

"Songs must get old; but relations ought never to get tired of them," said Nellie, smiling.

"Well, sing away, Miss Arundel," he answered.

Nellie paused. What should she sing to this assembly? Here was an opportunity which she might not have again. How she wished she could think that all of them knew what it was to be safe! So she began in rather a tremulous tone—

"Late! late! so late! and dark the night, and chill!
Late! late! so late! but we can enter still!
Too late! too late! ye cannot enter now!"

Before many words were sung, Nellie grew brave. She did not know if anyone there would sympathize with her, unless it were Wilmot, who she fancied thought differently from them all; but at any rate her Lord and Master was with her, and was she not trying to carry a message from Him?

There was deep silence among the little party when she ceased. The painfully solemn words, the pathos of her voice, the murmur of the sea, blended together to make an impression on the thoughtless young hearts.

Wilmot drew Mary's little hand within his own, and rose to proceed on their walk, and the rest followed in silence.

"It is not always 'too late,' Wilmot, is it?" asked she.

"No, my pet; never while life lasts."

"Because I shouldn't like to be left out. I often think about it, and I don't believe He will shut me out."

"Not if you have once been in, darling."

"But I'm not in heaven now, Wilmot, so how can I be in?"

"I mean if once you love Christ, and ask Him to be your Saviour. Then you are safe in Him."

"Well I often have; and I do love Him, Willie."

Wilmot pressed her hand.

"Did you ever hear about the ark, Mary?"

"Noah's ark?"

"Yes. Do you not remember how God told them to go into the ark to be safe?"

"Yes; and they went in."

"Just so; they went in. Did they know whether they were inside or not?"

"Of course they did," said Mary, smiling.

"And did they feel afraid of the water which was rising so rapidly round them on every side?"

"No; they knew it could not touch them in the ark."

"No more can anything hurt you, darling, if You have come to Jesus. The Bible says, 'No man shall pluck them out of My hand.'"

"Yes; that's as if you held something very fast, high over my head, and someone was trying to snatch it away from you."

"Yes; someone not as tall or strong as I."

"I see," said Mary; "and so, just the same, if I'm safe in the arms of Jesus, I can't be shut out, because if He's there, I must be too."

She smiled happily, and they turned round to look for the others.

They were close behind, and were eagerly collecting shells, which were to be found very perfect on this part of the coast.

Mary joined in the search, while Wilmot watched them and walked along humming a song to himself, his voice blending with the song of the waves, and then falling below it, and then rising above it, but always in tune.

They were in a comparatively small bay; on either extreme to the right and left a headland jutted out into the sea, with rocks beneath them which the winter's storms had detached from the cliff above. Here the breakers played their prettiest gambols. Just now they were surrounding the rock which appeared furthest out to sea, and were dashing up its side with fountains of white spray.

"The tide is coming in," said Hope; "but we shall have plenty of time for the caves. Come along, Nellie; you will be so delighted with them."

No one could leave the edge of the sea, however, till they actually came in front of the spot they were seeking. Then they all turned landwards, and soon had traversed the strip of even clear sand which brought them up under the rocks.

The Elliots had been here twice before, and had very little difficulty in finding the opening to the caves. They all halted then, and several produced small wax candles, which they proceeded to light.

Little Mary was delighted, and begged to hold one; and George gave his up to her good-humouredly, saying, "Mind you don't singe your curls, Polly."

Wilmot led the way, and the rest followed. There was no danger in the caves, as the sea washed in to the furthest point of them every day, and they had nothing worse to walk on than a bed of exquisite sand.

They wandered about, admiring the roof and laughing at the grotesque shapes which their shadows made upon it and the rocky sides; and then George proposed to dance a hornpipe, and they should see how that looked. They were very merry over this, but as the candles began to burn rather low, they all got up to proceed homewards once more. Suddenly a cry from the younger ones in front, who were climbing along the ledges of the rock, startled them, and Wilmot and Hope hurried forward, quickly followed by the rest.

On the ground sat Alice, who was next in age to George, holding her foot, and in the half-light looking ghastly pale.

"What is it?" asked Hope, kneeling down by her, and rapidly beginning to unlace her boot.

"Oh, don't!" she shrieked. "I cannot bear it. Oh, what have I done?"

"It is a sprain, I expect," said Hope; "but do, Alice dear, let me get off your boot."

Alice let go her clinging fingers, and once more Hope tried to undo the fastenings with gentle touch.

"Now I must draw it off, dear; but we will soon bathe it with sea-water, and then it will be better."

As she spoke she tenderly, but firmly, drew off the boot. "There," she said reassuringly, at the cry of agony which escaped the child, "now it will be easier."

When, however, she looked up in her sister's face, she found she had fainted.

The candles had by this time gone out, and though they could not see either the sky or sea, they were near enough to the mouth of the cave to distinguish all around them.

"Shall I run and get some water?" asked George.

"She could not drink that," said Hope, "of course; but what a pity we did not bring any with us."

They laid Alice down, and Nellie examined the wounded foot.

"How did she do it?" Hope asked.

"We none of us know exactly; but she slipped off that ledge."

"She will be better soon," said Nellie; "but see how her foot is swelling up! Don't you think we might pour some sea-water over it?"

"We haven't a thing to fetch it in. I forgot," said George.

"Here is my hat," answered Wilmot; "you could get a good lot in that."

George and one of the others ran out for it, and in a few minutes returned with it full.

"My!" he exclaimed. "Isn't the sea come up since we came in here!"

"We must be quick," said Hope, calmly proceeding to pour the contents over Alice's foot.

The cold water dashing on the painful, heated ancle, brought Alice back to consciousness. Hope asked her if she could rise.

She struggled to a sitting posture, looking frightened and woebegone.

"Come, we must go; we have been a long time, and George says the tide is rising."

Wilmot started violently, and putting his hand under his sister's arm, raised her at once, then calling to Hope to help, they proceeded to the outer air. When the view of the sea burst upon them, they found by its nearness how long they had been detained.

"Hope," exclaimed he in a whisper of intense anxiety, "shall we be able to get round the corner of those rocks?"

Hope looked. The sea was dashing among the stones directly at the base of the cliff, but some of them were still visible, and stood up black and hopeful against the spray.

"Oh, Wilmot!" she exclaimed. "Call to them; we must hasten forward. How can we reach it?"

Wilmot called in a tone which brought the whole party up to them in a moment.

"What is it?" said Maude, looking in their anxious faces.

He pointed with his disengaged hand, while he hurried forward, supporting poor Alice, who was doing her best to help herself, but could not put her foot to the ground.

"Never!" exclaimed Maude, with blanching cheeks.

The nearer they came to the projecting cliff, the quicker the ever-advancing sea seemed to come in upon them.

"What shall we do?" said Hope, when she saw that the black points were fast disappearing.

Wilmot and she were now so breathless that they were forced to give up their heavy burden to George and Maude.

"Oh, hurry on," said Maude, weeping, "and see what can be done, and whether we can pass."

Wilmot looked round. "Come, Mary; come, Miss Arundel; we will all keep together."

He did not slacken his speed for a moment, and Mary, who was holding Nellie's hand, caught his, and so they hurried on.

Alas! When they reached the cliff, the water was washing up at their feet, and far in front of them to their left, was the point, with the breakers rolling playfully in and out among the few stones that were still uncovered.

As the party came to a stop, and looked in each other's terror-stricken faces, they realized the full extent of their danger.

Behind them the cliff rose gaunt and tall; in front the sea crept nearer and nearer, slowly but surely advancing upon them.

Their eyes scanned the horizon, not a boat or sail within sight, all smiling and sunny; the ocean, holding so many secrets in its bosom, without a change on its calm face.

"Surely we can pass by wading," said Hope, gathering her clothes together and stepping into the shallow water.

The others were following, but she and Wilmot bade them wait one moment; for they found that the point was still far ahead, and the water was already nearly to their waists. It got deeper and deeper, and Hope put out her hand to her brother as she felt her feet slipping under her.

"It is useless," said Wilmot hoarsely; "come back."

He guided her till she was within her depth again, and then he looked towards the little party on the shore. They had already retreated some feet from where he had parted from them, and now stood gazing at them with hopeless faces.

"I must swim round and get a boat; it is not very, very far to the village there. I may be back in time, Hope."

"And if not?" she said; but she needed no answer.

"Pray," he said. "Go back and tell them all that 'Christ is able to save to the uttermost.'"

"Oh, Wilmot, Wilmot! What will mamma say?" she exclaimed, as he wrenched off his wet coat and threw it to her, and, dropping his boots, waded into deeper water.

"My love to them all," he said, "and to Miss Arundel, and tell them not to fear, but that I will do my best."

In a moment there was nothing to be seen but his dark head. But soon they saw him clambering over the rocks at the corner of the cliff.

"Deep water!" he shouted, and waved his hand. And as he plunged in again on the other side, he felt as if he had left behind him something which he held very dear.