with a start of horror, that it was the
light hair of a drowned boy; but they very soon saw that it could not be
that, and dashing in waist-deep after it, Henderson brought out _the
torn and battered fragments of a straw hat_. The ribbon, of dark blue
and white, though soaked and discoloured, still served to identify it as
having belonged to a Saint Winifred's boy; and, carefully examining the
flannel lining, they saw on a piece of linen sewn upon it--only too
legible still--the name "H. Kenrick." Nor was this all they found. The
discovery had quickened their search, and soon afterwards Power, with a
sudden suppressed cry, pointed to something black, lying, with a
dreadful look about it, at a far part of the sand. Again their hearts
grew cold, and running up to it they all recognised, with fresh horror
and despair, _the coat which Walter had last worn_. They recognised it,
but besides this, to place the matter beyond a doubt, his name was
marked on the inside of the sleeve. In one of the pockets was his
school notebook, with all the notes he had taken, and the playful
caricatures which here and there he had scribbled over the pages; and in
the other, stained with the salt water, and tearing at every touch, were
the letters he had last received.

All the next day the doubt was growing into certainty. Mr and Mrs
Evson were summoned from Semlyn, and came with feelings that cannot be
depicted. Power gave to Mrs Evson the coat he had picked up, and he
and Henderson hardly ever left the parents of their friend, doing all
they could to cheer their spirits and support in them the hopes they
could hardly feel themselves. To this day Mrs Evson cherishes that
coat as a dear and sacred relic, which reminds her of the mercy which
sustained her during the first great agony which she had endured in her
happy life. Power kept poor Kenrick's hat, for no relation of his was
there to claim it.

Another day dawned, and settled grief and gloom fell on all alike at
Saint Winifred's--the boys, the masters, the inhabitants. The sight of
Mr and Mrs Evson's speechless anguish impressed all hearts, and by
this time hope seemed quenched for ever. For now one boy only,--though
young hearts are slow to give up hope--had refused to believe the worst.
It was Eden. He _persisted_ that the three boys must have been picked
up. The belief had come upon him suddenly, and grown upon him he knew
not how, but he was _sure_ of it; and therefore