e feeling that
I could hae rest nowhere but wi' them. The water at last closed o'er me,
an' I sank frae aff the rock to the sand at the bottom. But death seemed
to have no power given him to hurt me; an' I walked as light as ever I
hae done on a gowany brae, through the green depths o' the sea. I saw
the silvery glitter o' the trout an' the salmon, shining to the sun, far
far aboon me, like white pigeons in the lift; an' around me there were
crimson starfish, an' sea-flowers, an' long trailing plants that waved
in the tide like streamers; an' at length I came to a steep rock wi' a
little cave like a tomb in it. 'Here,' I said, 'is the end o' my
journey--William is here, an' Earnest.' An', as I looked into the cave,
I saw there were bones in it, an' I prepared to take my place beside
them. But, as I stooped to enter, some one called me, an' on looking up,
there was William. 'Lillias,' he said, 'it is not night yet, nor is that
your bed; you are to sleep, not with me, but with Earnest--haste you
home, for he is waiting you.' 'Oh, take me to him! I said; an' then all
at once I found myself on the shore, dizzied an' blinded wi' the bright
sunshine; for, at the cave, there was a darkness like that o' a simmer's
gloamin; an', when I looked up for William, it was Earnest that stood
before me, life-like an' handsome as ever; an' you were beside him.'"

The day had been gloomy and lowering, and, though there was little wind,
a tremendous sea, that, as the evening advanced, rose higher and higher
against the neighbouring precipice, had been rolling ashore since
morning. The wind now began to blow in long hollow gusts among the
cliffs, and the rain to patter against the widow's casement.

"It will be a storm from the sea," she said; "the scarts an' gulls hae
been flying landward sin' daybreak, an' I hae never seen the ground
swell come home heavier against the rocks. Wae's me for the puir
sailors!"

"In the lang stormy nights," said Helen, "I canna sleep for thinking o'
them, though I have no one to bind me to them now. Only look how the sea
rages among the rocks, as if it were a thing o' life an' passion!--that
last wave rose to the crane's nest. An', look, yonder is a boat rounding
the rock wi' only one man in it. It dances on the surf as if it were a
cork, an' the wee bittie o' sail, sae black an' weet, seems scarcely
bigger than a napkin. Is it no bearing in for the boat haven below?"

"My poor old eyes," replied the widow,