one of the first to
regain composure, and the Percivals hung delightedly on her description
of Ralph's composure and resource.

"I was terrified. It was a dreadful sensation to feel the deck sinking
beneath your feet on one side, and to see it gradually rising above you
on the other. And all the bewildered, terrified faces! Ralph never
turned a hair. He told me that there was no danger so long as I kept
clear of the boat; he lifted me up in his arms as if I had been a doll."

The colour mounted to Darsie's white cheeks as she spoke, and a thrill
of emotion tingled her blood. The first time she hears herself
addressed as "darling" in a man's deep voice is one that a girl cannot
lightly forget. She turned her head over her shoulder so as to be able
to see the entrance into the tent.

"Where _is_ Ralph?"

"He will be here presently. None of the men have come in yet. Ralph
will be so useful. He is as much at home in the water as on land. He
will be busy helping the others."

Mrs Percival spoke with happy assurance; nevertheless, she left
Darsie's side and edged her way through the crowd towards the open
doorway, through which she ought now to be able to see her son's return.
As she was within a few yards of the entrance it was suddenly blocked
by a group of men--hatless, dripping, dishevelled, but in demeanour
composed and cheery, as if what had happened had been quite an enjoyable
experience.

The foremost of the group greeted their friends with smiles and waving
of hands.

"Hullo! Hullo! Here we are! How are you feeling? All serene now?
Every one comfortably on shore? Got any tea left?"

"Is my son with you? Have you seen my son--Ralph Percival?"

Mrs Percival spoke in a high, clear voice, at the sound of which a
young undergrad. wheeled round quickly towards his companions.

"By Jove--yes! He was on board. I thought we were all here. Where's
Percival?"

He dashed out of the tent, stood looking blankly around, turned a
blanched face towards the tent.

Then from an inner corner of the tent another voice questioned sharply:
"Mary! Where's Mary--Mary Everard? She was with us--standing quite
near. _Mary's not here_!"

No one answered. There was a breathless silence, while each man and
woman in that crowded tent was subtly, overpoweringly conscious of a new
presence filling the atmosphere around--the presence of _Fear_! Heavy
as a palpable presence it pressed upon them; it lapped them