the horizon the Scotch coast could be seen all along the line, while
the Mull of Cantyre looked but a few miles away, the very houses and
boundaries being almost distinguishable. Full in front the sun gleamed
on Ailsa Craig, as it rose abrupt and lovely from out of the sea.
Elsie, though familiar with it, had not been insensible to all this
beauty. She had spent almost the entire night at Mrs. McAravey's side,
nor did the old woman fall off to sleep till it was almost time to open
school. It was a weary morning's work; and when the children went home
to dinner the exhausted girl wandered down to the beach (having seen
that Mrs. McAravey still slept) in search of fresh air and quiet before
resuming her duties. Since the arrival of Lady Eleanor's last letter
she had naturally enough been excited and nervous. She knew that in a
few days at latest she should see her mother's friend, and one who
promised to be hers. Would she like her? Would the meeting be a
disappointment, or otherwise? What should she say? Where would they
meet? How should she dress herself? The first meeting with one to
whom we are bound by any ties, whom we have long corresponded with, or
are likely in the future to be much associated with, is always looked
forward to with embarrassment and nervousness. How much was this the
case with a poor, simple orphan girl, who had never been five miles
from home, called upon to encounter a titled lady, who actually claimed
her as her godchild, and to whom she felt bound by so many tender
associations? Filled with thoughts of the approaching interview, Elsie
wandered, she knew not whither, on the beach. Suddenly a shadow seemed
to pass over her, and she became conscious of the bitterness of the
north-east wind that blew upon the shore. Drawing her cloak round her,
she looked up and found that she had come under the shade of the great
cliff that rose at the extremity of Sandy Creek. She stood still a
moment, gazing on the dreary scene, and then a sudden flood of
recollection came over her. The tide was low, and she stood on the
very spot, as it seemed, where, twelve years before, she had caught
sight of the strange black mass that was being tossed on the sand amid
the tangled sea-weed. She saw herself a trembling, ragged child, alone
by the dead body in the fast gathering twilight. And this was the only
time that she had seen her mother. The girl was out of spirits, low in
health, and very weary,