s of hearing papa's step in the path.
The parcel lay on the table where the stranger had put it. She looked
at it, and looked at it, and then at the clock. It was a quarter to
five. Again the broken, dreamy voice muttered: "It must go,--it must
go." A sudden, generous impulse seized her.

"I'll take it myself!" she cried. "Then it will be sure to be in time.
And I can come back when papa does."

Poor child, so sure still that papa must come!

It lacked less than three-quarters of an hour to low water. At that
state of the tide the causeway was usually pretty bare; but, as she
descended the hill, Eyebright, even in the darkness, could see that it
was not nearly bare now. She could hear the swish of the water on the
pebbles, and, by the light of her lantern, caught sight of more than
one long wave sweeping almost up to the crest of the ridge. She would
not wait, however, but set bravely forward. The water must be shallow,
she knew, and fast growing more so, and she dared not delay; for the
walk down the shore, in the wind, was sure to be a long one, "I
mustn't miss the stage," she kept saying, to encourage herself, and
struck in, feeling the way with the point of her umbrella, and holding
the lantern low, so as to see where she stepped. The water was only
two or three inches deep,--less than that in some places; but every
few minutes a wave would rush across and bury her feet above the
ankles. At such times, the sand would seem to give way and let her
down, and a sense of sinking and being carried off would seize upon
her and take away all her strength. She dared not move at these
moments, but stood still, dug her umbrella into the sand, and waited
till the water ran back.

As she got farther from the island, a new danger assailed her. It was
the wind, of which she now felt the full force. It bent and swayed her
about till she felt like a plaything in its grasp. Once it caught her
skirts and blew her over toward the deeper water. This was the most
dangerous moment of all; but she struggled back, and the gust relaxed
its grasp. More than once the fury of the blast was so great that she
dared not stand upright, but crouched on the wet sand, and made
herself as flat as possible, till it passed by. Oh, how she wished
herself back at home again. But going back was as dangerous as going
forward, and she kept on, firm in her purpose still, though drenched,
terrified, and half crying, till, little by little, wet sand instead