iresome
and spoilt all their games. And when that morning the spade, hat, and
shoe were discovered upon the shore, not far from the very rock, the poor
children had to draw plenty of morals on the consequences of selfishness.
No doubt that poor little Michael had pursued them barefooted and gone
too near the waves!

There was nothing more but the forlorn hope that the waves would restore
the little body they had carried off, and Mrs. Morton was watching for
that last sad satisfaction. In case of that contingency, Ellen, as the
last person known to have seen the boy, had been left at Westhaven, in
agonies of despair, vowing that she would never speak to any one, nor
look at a story-book again in her life. She had attempted the excuse
that she thought she saw Miss Ida going in that direction, but the young
lady had declared that she had never been on the beach at all that
afternoon till after the alarm had been given; and had been extremely
angry with Ellen for making false excuses and trying to shift off the
blame, and the girl had been much terrified, and owned that she was not
at all sure.

'And oh, my lady,' entreated Eden, 'don't send me up to the House! Don't
make me face her ladyship! I should die of it!'

'We must think what is to be done about that,' said Lady Adela. 'Can you
tell whether any one from the House has seen you?'

Eden thought not, and after she had been consigned to her friend, Lady
Adela's maid, to be rested, fed, and comforted as far as might be
possible, the sisters-in-law held sad counsel, and agreed that it was not
safe to keep back the terrible news from the poor mother who expected
daily tidings of her child, and might hear some report, in spite of her
shut-up state.

'Poor Adela, I pity you almost as much as her,' said Bertha.

'Oh, I know now how much I have to be thankful for! No uncertainty--and
my little one's grave.'

'Besides Amice. Let me drive you up, Addie. Your heart is beating
enough to knock you down.'

'Well, I believe it is. But not up to the front door. I will go in by
the garden. Oh, may he be spared to her at least!'

Very pale then Lady Adela crept in, meeting a weeping maid who was much
relieved to see her, but was hardly restrained from noisy sobs. Mr.
Trotman, she said, had come just before the garden boy had inevitably
dashed up with the tidings, and the household had been waiting till he
came out, to secure that he should be near when Lady North