“We must go, and at once,” I said, “or we shall never be back before the doctor gets down. Come, Cecil! Don’t tell me anything yet.”
I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the room. We crept softly down the passage and out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him questions and he seemed in no hurry to disclose what had happened, so we hurried along in silence, Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze which blew in our teeth when we had left the town behind us and had all the effect of a strong, invigorating tonic.
At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and, glancing at Cecil, I saw the colour creeping back into his cheeks with every breath he took of the salt air which came sweeping across the sandy, barren country between us and the sea.
When at last we reached our destination and had cautiously made our way up to the back entrance, he hesitated. Opposite to us was the pine-plantation, which led down to the sea, and between the thickly growing black trunks a curious light shone and glistened. I had lived all my life in the country and knew well what it was, but Cecil turned round and watched it with amazement.
“Look, Phil!” he whispered. “What’s that light? It seems as though the plantation were on fire!”
“It’s the sunrise,” I answered. “Shall we go and see it?”
He nodded, and we stole across the lawn, through the wicket-gate and along the narrow, winding path, thickly strewn with dried leaves and fir-cones, down towards the shore. We were just in time to see the final effect. A rim of the sun had already crept into sight, casting brilliant, scintillating reflections upon the dancing waves, and the eastern sky was tinged from the arc of the heavens to the horizon with streaks of brilliantly-hued, fantastically-shaped cloudlets, strewn upon a background of the lightest transparent blue.
Far off the sails of a few fishing-smacks glittered like gossamer wings upon a fairy ocean; and farther away still, where the banks of orange and azure clouds seemed to sink into a blazing sea of polished glass, the white funnel of a passing steamer shone like a pillar of fire.
It was a sight so new to Cecil that he stood spellbound, with a look of wondering awe upon his pale face. And it was not until we had gazed to the full and were retracing our steps in silence through the plantation that I cared to speak of the events of the night.
“Philip,” he said solemnly, when I mentioned the subject, “there’s no one to blame for this night’s work but myself. To do Leonard and that fellow Fothergill justice, they both continually urged me to leave off playing, but I wouldn’t. It seemed as though the luck must change at every deal and so I went on, and on, and on. What a fool I was!”