"Are you not well, dear Mrs. Denbigh? How cold you are!"
"Yes, darling! I am well;" and tears sprang into her eyes as she
looked at their anxious little faces. "Go now, dears. Five
o'clock will soon be here, and then we will have tea."
"And that will warm you!" said they, leaving the room.
"And then it will be over," she murmured--"over."
It never came into her head to watch the girls as they
disappeared down the lane on their way to church. She knew them
too well to distrust their doing what they were told. She sat
still, her head bowed on her arms for a few minutes, and then
rose up and went to put on her walking things. Some thoughts
impelled her to sudden haste. She crossed the field by the side
of the house, ran down the steep and rocky path, and was carried
by the impetus of her descent far out on the level sands--but not
far enough for her intent. Without looking to the right hand or
to the left, where comers might be seen, she went forwards to the
black posts, which, rising above the heaving waters, marked where
the fishermen's nets were laid. She went straight towards this
place, and hardly stinted her pace even where the wet sands were
glittering with the receding waves. Once there, she turned round,
and, in a darting glance, saw that as yet no one was near. She
was perhaps half-a-mile or more from the grey, silvery rocks,
which sloped away into brown moorland, interspersed with a field
here and there of golden, waving corn.
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