Toward evening, however, the crowd collected on the beach, for the boat had been sighted.
Austin Ambrose had left Blair for a short rest, but he could neither sleep nor remain quiet, and his restless feet had dragged him to Appleford.
He stood just on the edge of the crowd watching the boat with lack-luster eyes that shone dully in his pallid face.
There was a rush and a cheer as the boat came in, and two or three men ran out into the water—it was smiling calmly enough now—to haul her in, but as her keel touched the beach, Day held up his hand.
"Don't cheer, lads," he said, gravely; "I've bad news."
"Ay, ay, we can guess, James," said a voice, "you've seen the poor lady!"
Day started and glanced at his wife, who sat in the stern, her shawl to her eyes.
"Tell 'em, you," he said, in a whisper.
She raised her head.
"Yes," she said, with a sob, "I've seen the poor lady. We saw her on the rocks, almost at the last moment."