"Is there any hope? Tell me truly," she breathed.
The woman took her hand. "There is some hope; but the tide flows in very quickly in that little bay, and rises very high too. Still—he has been gone some time, with a boat and two sailors."
Mrs. Elliot mechanically walked out of the cottage, and turned towards the shore. Mrs. Mansbridge looked after her with pitying eyes; and while she put on a large fire, and set blankets to warm, she murmured half aloud:
"O Lord, it's easy to trust Thee in fair weather; but when the storm comes—And yet it is in the storm that Thou art most near; and Thou canst say, 'Peace, be still.'"
* * * * * *
When Wilmot once more stood on the clear sand at the other side of the projecting cliff, so near to them all and yet divided by such a gulf, he rushed at the utmost speed to which he could force his limbs, towards the few fishermen's cottages which he could descry about a mile along the shore.
Drawn up above high water mark were two or three boats, and when he could make these out he took courage.
How weary the time seemed. He almost felt as if he were going backwards instead of forwards. At last the boats were reached; but no men were to be seen.
He shouted with all his voice, and ran up towards the cottages. Two sailors, who were smoking at their garden-gates, answered to his call, and came running down to him.
"A boat—quick—" was all he could gasp; and understanding in their precarious trade that there was danger, they quickly unfastened one, and pushed her down into the water.