e back, and then we can bring him in.'

'Well,' said my grandfather, with a groan, 'I'll go then! Come with me,
Alick, my lad,' said he, turning to me; 'but no, perhaps I'd better go
by myself.'

So he went very slowly up towards the lighthouse, and I remained behind
with the four men on the shore, and that silent form lying at the bottom
of the boat.

I was much frightened, and felt as if it was all a very terrible dream,
and as if I should soon wake up to find it had all passed away.

CHAPTER IX.

A CHANGE IN THE LIGHTHOUSE.

It seemed a long time before my grandfather came back, and then he only
said in a low voice, 'You can bring him now, my lads; she knows about it
now.'

And so the mournful little procession moved on, through the field and
garden and court, to the Millars' house, my grandfather and I following.

I shall never forget that night, nor the strange, solemn feeling I had
then.

Mrs. Millar was very ill; the shock had been too much for her. The men
went back in the boat to bring a doctor to the island to see her, and
the doctor sent them back again to bring a nurse. He said he was afraid
she would have an attack of brain-fever, and he thought her very ill
indeed.

My grandfather and I sat in the Millars' house all night, for the nurse
did not arrive until early in the morning. The six children were fast
asleep in their little beds. I went to look at them once, to see if my
little Timpey was all right; she was lying in little Polly's bed, their
tiny hands fast clasped together as they slept. The tears came fast into
my eyes, as I thought that they both had lost a father, and yet neither
of them knew anything of their loss!

When the nurse arrived, my grandfather and I went home But we could not
sleep; we lighted the kitchen fire, and sat over it in silence for a
long time.

Then my grandfather said: 'Alick, my lad, it has given me such a turn as
I haven't had for many a day. It might have been _me_, Alick; it might
just as well have been _me_!'

I put my hand in his, and grasped it very tightly, as he said this.
'Yes,' he said again, 'it might have been me; and if it had, I wonder
where I should have been now?'

I didn't speak, and he went on,--'I wonder where Jem is now, poor
fellow; I've been thinking of that all night, ever since I saw him lying
there at the bottom of that boat.'

So I told him of what Jem Millar had said to me the last time I had seen
him.

'On the Rock!