and some happy days be spent with Ned Thorn
and old friends.

Trafford hesitated a long time. Who could tell what peril the boy
might be in while crossing the sea? How could he lose him now? And,
when once in the charmed circle of old friends and associations, would
he not dislike to return to gray and barren Culm Rock? But Noll went.

CHAPTER XXI.

IN PERIL OF THE SEA.

The day had dawned clear and brilliant, but as the afternoon waned, a
gray curtain of ragged cloud slowly rose and hid the sun, and brought
an early nightfall. The wind was strong, and the sea--calm and silvery
but a few hours before--began to toss and thunder heavily. Hagar came
from the pine woods with a great basket of cones, just as the early
dusk began to settle over the windy sea and to wrap the forest in
heavy shadow, and as the old woman crossed the narrow bar of sand
which connected Culm Rock with the main-land, the wind swept over in
such strong gusts, and with such blinding sheets of spray, that her
safety was more than once endangered. But she reached the firm,
unyielding Rock, with no worse misfortune than a drenching befalling
her, and made her way to the warm and comfortable precincts of her
kitchen, with many ejaculations of delight and thankfulness. The first
sound which greeted her ears on entering was the long-drawn, solemn
voice of the organ.

"Wonder what Mas'r Dick's got on his heart dis yer night?" she
muttered, bustling about to prepare supper; "'tain't sech music as dat
yer organ make lately. 'Pears like somethin' was de matter, anyhow."

She prepared supper in the dining-room, muttering to herself about the
lonesomeness and silence of the house since "Mas'r Noll dun gone off;"
and when the solitary meal was in readiness, put her head in at the
library-door and called her master to tea. When she had got back to
her kitchen, and was standing in the open door, her grizzled head
thrust out into the gathering gloom and tempest to watch the progress
of the storm, she noticed that the music did not cease, but kept on in
its slow and solemn measure, rising and falling and stealing
plaintively in.

"Something's de matter, sure," Hagar said, turning about and shutting
the door; "dat ain't de kind of music dat Mas'r Dick's made lately.
'Pears like he's 'stressed 'bout somethin'! But, Hagar, ye can't do
nuffin but jes' trust de Lord, nohow. Ye'd better get yer own supper,
ef yer Mas'r Dick don't tech his."