favorite of mine. There is a look in her eyes at
times that makes me shudder at the thought of the harm she is pretty
sure to do. Floyd here is her only partisan."

I had already sprung along the terrace, and quickly crossed the lawn
and garden to the rocks. I remembered having seen a blue and a scarlet
jacket going toward the shore during my talk with Mr. Floyd; and, sure
enough, on the rocks I found traces of the girls--a ribbon, the rind
of Georgy's oranges which she was always nibbling, and Helen's book.
Supposing they were on the beach, I descended the stone steps leading
to the sands. There was a faint plashing and lisping of the waves, but
otherwise no sound and no sight but the great rocks and the smooth sea
lustrous and glittering like steel. I had no doubt but that Helen and
Georgy were somewhere near me, and sat down to wait. My mind was full
of thoughts that came and went, bringing clear but swiftly-shifting
pictures of our old life and the new, which rose suddenly fresh and
vivid before me. I could see my mother's face, the color coming and
going like a young girl's, and the movement of her little hands
clasping and unclasping in her lap. I could see her, too, by the side
of Mr. Floyd in a bright, wonderful world of which I knew nothing. For
a moment I felt already parted from her, and the pang of separation
wrenched body from soul. I threw myself face downward on the sand and
declared myself profoundly miserable.

Suddenly I started to my feet. I was vaguely terrified, yet could not
tell what had aroused me from my brooding thoughts. I seemed conscious
of having heard a cry, but so faint and inarticulate as hardly to
differ from the distant note of a sea-bird. But as I ran frantically
along the sands I distinctly heard my name, and knew that the entreaty
was for help.

"I am coming!" I screamed at the top of my voice--"I am coming as fast
as I can." The rocks gave back so many deceitful echoes that I was not
certain from what point the imploring cry came; but I knew every inch
of the beach for a mile up and down, and knew, too, that there was but
one place in which with ordinary prudence there could be the slightest
danger. So with unerring instinct I flew along the wet shingle to
"Raymond's Cliff." At this point the beetling line of rocks which
coiled and frowned along the coast terminated abruptly in precipitous
crags. On one side it was sheer precipice, but on the other the cliff,
exposed both to wi