and Hark Darby were left to
keep the stricken master of the stone house company. Oh, such a weary
waiting it was!--the ceaseless pouring of the waves upon the sand
filling their ears with clamor, and the fearful tide bringing them
not the treasure which they sought. Would the sea never give it up?
Was the dear form caught and held by the entangling arms of some
purple weed in the sea depths? or was it cradled in the calm,
unruffled quiet of some crevice of the rocks?

"Oh, cruel, cruel sea!" he cried to himself, "to rob me of my boy, and
refuse to give back the poor boon of his body."

It never came. The morning wore on to noon, the noon to night, and
still the lonely watcher paced up and down. Toward night the tempest
abated, and the turmoil of the sea subsided somewhat. The gray clouds
broke and let through a slant mist of yellow sunshine as the sun
departed, and the storm was over. Its work was done; and as the clouds
fled in ragged squadrons, the calm, untroubled stars shone out over
the sea, and mocked, with their deep, unutterable peace, the aching,
wretched heart of him who still kept up his lonely pacing. Trafford's
eyes suddenly caught sight of their silvery glitter, and he stopped,
looking up at them, while the sudden thought flashed through his mind,
"Is my boy up there? beyond those shining worlds, in that happy heaven
which he trusted in?"

The thought held him silent and motionless. It had not entered his
heart before. He had been searching for the lad upon this dreary,
sea-beaten shore, without a thought of anything beyond. Was he really
standing upon a heavenly shore, where no waves beat nor tempest raved,
and, perhaps, looking down upon his own lonely vigil?

There was something in this thought which brought a great calm upon
his heart. True, the boy was no less dead nor separated from him; the
merry voice was no less hushed to him for all his life and journeying,
and the echo of his footsteps might never float down from heavenly
paths to gladden his ears; yet, though he realized this, there was a
wonderful peace and joy in thinking of the lad as happy and joyous in
a sphere where nothing would ever blight his happiness; where he had
found those who bore him a great love and had been long waiting for
his coming. Trafford sat down on the great pile of broken timbers, and
once more looked upward at the stars. Pure and unwavering their gentle
eyes looked down at him. And then peaceful as an an