to the cliff above the
bathing-beach and looked toward the long cape at the end of which lay
Malachi. The dots of houses showed plainer and whiter than usual
against the cape, which had turned of a deep slate-gray, almost black.
Two or three ships were in sight, but they were large ships far out at
sea, and the strange darkness and the confusion and tumble of the
waves, which every instant increased, made it difficult to detect any
object so small as a boat. She was just turning away, when a sudden
gleam of light showed what seemed to be a tiny sail far out in the
bay, but it disappeared and, at the same moment, a sudden, violent
wind swept in from the sea, and almost threw her down. She caught hold
of a sapling-stem to steady herself, and held tightly till the gust
passed. Next instant came a great roar of blinding rain, and she was
forced to run as fast as she could to the house. It took but two
minutes to reach it; but already she was drenched to the skin, and the
water was running in streams from her dress and the braids of her
hair.

She had to change all her clothes. As she sat before the fire, drying
her hair with a rough towel, she could hear the rain pouring on the
roof with a noise like thunder, and every few minutes great waves of
wind surged against the house, making it shake and tremble till the
rafters creaked. There were other sounds, too,--odd rattlings, deep
hollow notes like groans, and a throbbing as of some mighty
pulse,--but there was no thunder; indeed Eyebright doubted if she
could have heard it had there been any, so loud was the tumult of
noises.

She sat by the fire and dried her hair--what else was there to
do?--but feeling all the time as if she ought to be out in the rain
helping papa somehow. The tears ran down her cheeks; now and then she
wrung her hands tightly, and said, "O papa! O papa!" Never had she
felt so little and helpless and lost in all her life before. She tried
to say a prayer, but it seemed to her just then that God could not
hear a weak, small voice like hers through such a rage of storm. She
could not realize what it would have been such a comfort to
feel,--that God is never so near his children or so ready to listen,
as when storms are wildest and they need him most. And so she sat,
till by and by the clock struck six, and made her jump at the idea
that papa might come in soon and find no supper ready for him.

"I mustn't let _that_ happen," she thought, as, with shak