MOTHER and I went up to the cottage door, and knocked four or five times, but no one came.
We were just going away when mother said she thought she heard a noise inside. I put my ear to the door and listened, and could distinctly hear someone coming downstairs, very slowly, step by step.
It seemed a very long time before the person got to the bottom step, and then we heard an old shaky voice on the other side of the door asking who we were and what we wanted.
Mother called out that we wanted to find some people who had gone down to the shore, and then after a minute or two the door was opened, and we saw a very old woman leaning on a stick. She asked us again what we wanted, and mother shouted it into her ear as loudly as she could. But still she could not make the old woman hear. She told us that we must come again, for all the folks were out now looking for the ‘puir bairn’ that was lost on the shore. And then the old woman shut the door again.
‘Oh, Olive,’ said mother, ‘where can they be gone, and where can Melville be? O God, take care of my poor boy,’ she prayed aloud, as we went out of the gate.
‘Mother, I’m sure God will,’ I said. ‘Don’t be frightened, mother, I am sure God will keep Melville safe.’
But by this time we had gone down the little sandy path which led from the cottage to the shore. Mother was walking first, and I was following her, when she suddenly stopped short, with a cry which I shall never forget. She turned round, and, holding me in her arms, she sobbed,—
‘Oh, Olive, Olive, I know now what Miss Howard was so afraid of ; the tide is in! Yes, the tide is in, and Miss Howard said that farther on the rocks were so high that it would be impossible for him to climb them. Oh, my; poor, poor little Melville!’
I felt very frightened when mother said this, for I remembered that even when I was down on the shore the tide was very high, and I had seen it beating against the cliffs about half a mile farther up the coast. It was this which had made me turn round, and feel sure Melville could not be there.
‘Are you going no farther, mother ?’ I said.
‘We can’t go farther, darling,’ said mother, quite calmly again ; ‘the sands are covered now; I nearly walked into the water. Miss Howard cannot be down here. I wonder where she can be.’
‘Mother,’ I said, ‘look in that direction; don’t you see a light moving ? I think they must be there! Or can it be a light in the cottage window ?’
We stood still, and watched the light. Yes, it certainly was moving.
‘It seems very high up, Olive,’ said mother, ‘I think it must be at the top of the cliffs. How can we get there ? do you know ?’
I told her that we must go back to the high road, which we had crossed close by the cottages and we must go along that road for half a mile, and then we should find a stile, and a path leading to the top of the cliffs I had been there once with Miss Howard, when I was staying at Langholme.
So mother and I went along as fast as we could. It was no so dark here as it had been under the trees, and we could see the white road quite clearly, and the path leading down to the cliffs.
It was a wild, stormy night. The sky was covered with clouds, and the wind was blowing fiercely. We had the wind in our faces as we went along this road, so that it was a great struggle to get on at all. But mother pressed on with all the strength she had, and I followed her as well as I could.
We had lost sight of the lantern for some time, but, just as we were getting over the stile to go on the cliff path, we saw it coming towards as. There must have been quite thirty people following the lantern, and they had several ropes with them, and one gentleman had a bugle in his hand.
Miss Howard caught sight of mother, and came up to her and gave her her arm. She told mother that now she must come back with her to Langholme, for they had done all that possibly could be done till the tide went out again. They had been up and down the top of the cliffs, blowing the bugle, listening to hear if there was any answer from below, and ready to let down the ropes at once if they heard Melville’s voice.
But they could hear nothing, for the wind was so high that even if he had answered them, the sound would have been lost.
‘Let us try once more,’ said Captain Hendrie, a gentleman who was staying at Langholme, and who had the bugle in his hand. ‘Now, all of you, be quiet, please.’
He went to the edge of the cliff, and blew the bugle. Then he waited, and we all listened, but we heard no sound except the roaring of the waves and the howling of the wind.
Then Captain Hendrie blew another blast, and this time mother fancied that she heard the sound of a voice below, though the wind was so high that it was impossible for her to be sure of it. So Captain Hendrie blew again, and this time a white seabird, whose nest was just below, flew out with a wild cry, frightened at the sound of the bugle. ‘It must have been the bird that we heard before, I think,’ said the captain, ‘but we will try again !’
He blew once more, but this time there was no answer, and we all felt sure that it was the bird, and with sorrowful hearts we turned back to Langholme.
Then Miss Howard sent one of her servants to Ravenscliffe, to tell them not to sit up for us, as mother and would stop at Langholme all night.
We went back to the house, and Miss Howard took us upstairs. She wanted mother very much to go to bed and to get a little rest, for she told her that all had been done that could possibly be done until the morning, and she said that mother looked o very tired and worn out, and she was afraid that she would be quite ill if she did not lie down a little.
But mother could not lie down. She sat with me for a little time over the bedroom fire, and then she walked up and down the room, up and down the room, till I thought she would have fallen, she looked so tired.
I shall never forget mother’s face that night ; it was so strange, and so unlike herself. She did not cry any more, and she was quite calm, but she was so very, very white, and looked so sorrowful, that it made me cry to look at her. Every time that she walked past me, I could see that her lips were moving, and I knew that she was praying. I believe she prayed almost all night.
Miss Howard came in several times during the night, and once she brought mother a cup of cocoa, and made her drink it, and another time she told me to lie down on the bed, and covered me with a shawl. But every time she came in, she had some kind sympathizing word to say, to show us how much she felt for us.
Mother has said since, that she shall always now think of Miss Howard when she hears these two lines, which come in one of mother’s favourite hymns:
‘A heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.’
I hope so much that I may be like her some day. Mother says it is when people live very near to Jesus that they get so unselfish, and are always glad when other people are glad, and sorry when other people are sorry.
I wish so very much that I loved Jesus as mother and Miss Howard do!