appointment, when our
long walk was ended, we found that the doctor was away, and would
probably not return until morning.

The walk home was, if possible, worse than the walk there, for the wind
was dead against us as we came down the cliff. It had changed somewhat
the last hour, and was now blowing from the north-east.

'There will be trouble out at sea,' Mr. Christie said, as we stopped to
take breath.

'And what about the boats?' I asked.

'Yes,' he said, almost with a groan, 'what about the boats?'

We could see very little out at sea, though it was beginning to grow
light, but we determined to make our way to the shore, to see all that
it was possible to distinguish. He went home for a moment, and then
followed me to my lodging. Polly and her old friend were still watching
the child.

'I think he's a little better, sir,' she said; 'he's quieter. Oh, Mr.
Christie, I _am_ glad to see you, sir! Will you pray, sir? I think
I shall hear the wind less if you pray!'

We knelt down beside the child's bed, but the noise of the storm almost
drowned his voice. At the end of the prayer the child began once more to
cry for his father, so piteously, so beseechingly, that at last I could
bear it no longer, but ran downstairs, to be out of the sound of that
touching little voice. Mr. Christie soon followed me, and we went out
together in the grey light of that terrible morning.

'The child is dying, Jack,' he said.

'Oh, don't say so, Mr. Christie!' I answered; 'dying before his father
comes back.'

'God grant he _may_ come back!' he said; 'look at the sea, Jack.'

The sea was dashing wildly against the rocks, and the noise of the wind
was so great we could hardly hear our own voices. In the dim uncertain
light we could at length distinguish a group of anxious watchers on the
shore. Some old fishermen were there trying to hold a telescope steady
in the gale, that they might look across the water for any sign of a
boat, and mothers and wives and sweethearts of the absent fishermen were
there also, with shawls tied over their heads, and with troubled and
tear-stained faces, peering out into the dismal light of that sorrowful
morning.

Mr. Christie and I stood near them, and he spoke from time to time a
word of encouragement and hope to the anxious women beside him. As the
light increased the wind dropped somewhat, and the gale seemed to have
spent its violence. We were thankful to notice, that although the sea
was s